After my father passed away, my mom began to visit more often. Her presence provided solace during those lonely months. However, something peculiar was happening with Cindy, my daughter. Whenever my mom came over, Cindy would cry incessantly and avoid her grandmother. My mom dismissed it, attributing it to Cindy being spoiled. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Cindy had always been well-behaved when it was just the two of us.
One afternoon, after yet another tearful episode from Cindy, I decided it was time to dig deeper. I sat her down on the living room couch, her favorite stuffed bunny comforting her in her small hands.
“Hunny, why do you cry when Grandma is here?” I asked gently, maintaining a light tone.
Cindy’s big, tear-filled eyes met mine. “Because of her friend,” she said softly.
My heart skipped a beat. “What friend? She always comes alone, sweetheart.”
Cindy vigorously shook her head. “No, Mommy. There’s always a friend with her. A scary one.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What do you mean, Cindy? How does this friend look like?”
Cindy looked around nervously, then whispered, “It’s a man, Mommy. He’s tall and always stands behind Grandma. He looks at me with mean eyes and tells me not to tell anyone about him.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “Cindy, honey, Grandma never brings anyone with her. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?”
Cindy looked up at me with such earnestness that it broke my heart. “I’m not imagining, Mommy. He’s real. And he scares me.”
I hugged Cindy tightly, trying to soothe her, while my mind raced. How could this be? My mom never mentioned anything about a friend, let alone bringing someone with her. But Cindy’s fear was undeniable and palpable. I knew I had to confront my mom about it.
The next time my mom came over, I observed her closely. She seemed like her usual self—warm, affectionate, and perhaps a bit overbearing. Nonetheless, I couldn’t shake Cindy’s words from my mind. With Cindy hiding behind my legs, I decided to address the issue head-on.
“Mom, Cindy says she sees a man with you when you come over,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.
My mom’s face 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, feeling my anxiety rise.
My mom took a deep breath and sat down, appearing more vulnerable than I had ever seen her. “I didn’t want to tell you this,” she began, her voice shaking. “After your father passed away, I… I started seeing him. He’s been following me. I thought I was imagining it, 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 believed I was losing my mind. But if Cindy sees him too, maybe he’s really here. Maybe he’s angry, or… I don’t know.”
That night, I resolved that we needed to confront this eerie presence. I contacted a local spiritual advisor, someone renowned for helping families deal with unexplained phenomena. She agreed to visit us the next day.
As soon as the advisor entered our house, she sensed a presence. After a comprehensive session of prayers and rituals, she informed us that my father’s spirit was indeed lingering, but he harbored no malicious intent. He was confused, caught between worlds, and still trying to protect us in his own way.
With the advisor’s guidance, we performed a final ritual to help guide my father’s spirit to peace. The atmosphere in the house felt lighter afterwards, and Cindy ceased crying when my mom visited.
Subsequently, my mom and I sat down with Cindy and explained that Grandpa was watching over us, residing in a joyful place, and that he wouldn’t scare her anymore. Cindy appeared relieved and even managed a smile.
Ultimately, this experience brought us closer as a family. We learned to openly discuss our fears and emotions, finding comfort in the knowledge that my father’s love for us transcended even death.
