After losing my father, my mom started visiting more frequently. Although she claimed it was to spend time with us and lend a helping hand, there was an unexplained melancholy that filled the air during her visits.
My daughter, Cindy, would often cry and avoid being around her grandmother. Mom dismissed it as a result of my overprotective parenting, but I couldn’t ignore the constant tears and tension anymore. Determined to uncover the truth, I sat down with Cindy and gently held her hand, asking her why she cried whenever Grandma was home.
To my surprise, Cindy looked at me with fearful eyes and said, “Because of her friend.” Confused, I asked, “What friend? Grandma always comes alone.” Cindy shook her head and replied, “No, she asks me to play with a man who stands in the corner and watches me.” My heart skipped a beat and I asked Cindy to describe this man she was seeing. She tearfully explained that he was tall, wore old clothes, and had a scary face. He would say mean things to her when Grandma wasn’t looking.
Fear engulfed me as I hugged Cindy tightly, trying to comfort her. The realization struck me that there was no man accompanying my mother during her visits. She always came alone or so I thought. Trying to remain calm, I asked Cindy more questions to understand the situation. Who was this man she claimed to see? And why would my mother bring someone so unsettling into our home? I couldn’t fathom how I hadn’t noticed anything before.
During my mother’s next visit, I observed her closely, hoping to catch any sign of this mysterious “friend.” Much to my dismay, Cindy started crying again and held onto my leg, refusing to let go. I knew it was time to confront my mother. I asked her directly about the man Cindy spoke of, watching her reaction closely.
Her face turned pale, and she stammered, denying the existence of any man. But I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes, and I knew she was hiding something. Urgently, I pressed on, imploring her to tell me the truth. Finally, she broke down, tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would think I was crazy. But ever since your father passed away, I’ve felt his presence. I think… I think his spirit is attached to me. I had no idea he was scaring Cindy.”
I was stunned. Could it really be my father? I had always been skeptical about the existence of ghosts, but the fear Cindy experienced and the genuine distress in my mother’s voice made me reconsider. Determined to find a resolution, I sought help from a local spiritual advisor. They suggested a cleansing ritual to help my father’s spirit find peace and move on. My skeptical mother, for the sake of Cindy, agreed to participate.
Together, we performed the cleansing ritual, filling our home with prayers, incense, and positive energy. Cindy watched with wide eyes, holding onto me tightly. As the ritual concluded, a sense of calm washed over the house. My mother seemed more at ease, and Cindy, although still cautious, no longer cried when Grandma came over.
Weeks passed, and slowly, Cindy’s fear diminished. She no longer mentioned the man, and my mother seemed lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The revelation had brought our family closer, and the haunting secret had been unveiled and resolved. Though we may never fully understand the mysteries of the afterlife, our bond grew stronger as we faced the inexplicable together.
