After my father passed away, my mom started spending more time with us. Her presence brought comfort during those lonely months, but something strange was happening with Cindy, my daughter. Every time my mom visited, Cindy would burst into tears and avoid her grandmother. Mom dismissed it as excessive pampering, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss. Cindy was always an angel when it was just the two of us.
One day, after yet another tearful episode, I decided it was time to get to the bottom of things. I sat Cindy down on the living room couch, her favorite stuffed bunny in her hands.
“Honey, why do you cry when Grandma is here?” I asked, trying to keep a light tone.
Cindy looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Because of her friend,” she whispered.
My heart skipped a beat. “What friend? Grandma always comes alone, sweetheart.”
Cindy shook her head. “No, Mommy. There’s always a friend with her. A scary man.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What do you mean, Cindy? What does this friend look like?”
Cindy glanced around nervously, then whispered, “He’s tall and always stands behind Grandma. He looks at me with mean eyes and tells me not to tell anyone.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “Cindy, Grandma never brings anyone with her. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?”
Cindy’s earnest eyes made it clear that she believed in what she saw. “I’m not imagining, Mommy. He’s real. And he scares me.”
I held Cindy close, trying to reassure her while my mind raced. How could this be? My mom had never mentioned a friend, let alone bringing someone along. But Cindy’s fear was undeniable. I knew I had to confront my mom.
The next time my mom visited, I watched her closely. She seemed the same as always—warm, affectionate, and a little overbearing. But Cindy’s words lingered in my mind. As Cindy hid behind me, I decided to address the matter directly.
“Mom, Cindy says she sees a man with you when you come over,” I said, my voice trembling.
My mom turned pale. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“Cindy describes a tall man who scares her and tells her not to talk about him. Is there something you need to tell me?” I pressed, my anxiety rising.
My mom took a deep breath and sat down, looking vulnerable. “I didn’t want to tell you this,” she began, her voice shaking. “After your father passed, I… I started seeing him. He’s been following me. I thought it was my imagination, but now Cindy sees him too.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Dad? You think Cindy is seeing Dad’s ghost?”
Mom nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to frighten you or Cindy. I thought I was going crazy. But if Cindy sees him too, maybe he’s really here. Maybe he’s angry, or… I don’t know.”
That night, I knew we had to address this eerie presence. I reached out to a local spiritual advisor known for helping families with unexplained phenomena. She agreed to come the next day.
When the advisor arrived, she immediately sensed a presence in the house. After a thorough session of prayers and rituals, she informed us that my father’s spirit was indeed lingering, but not with malicious intent. He was confused, caught between worlds, and still trying to protect us.
With the advisor’s guidance, we performed a final ritual to guide my father’s spirit to find peace. The atmosphere in the house felt lighter afterwards, and Cindy stopped crying when my mom visited.
Mom and I sat down with Cindy and explained that Grandpa was watching over us, but he was now in a happy place and wouldn’t scare her anymore. Cindy seemed relieved and even smiled.
In the end, this experience brought our family closer. We learned to openly discuss our fears and emotions, finding solace in the knowledge that my father’s love for us transcended even death.
