A Voice in the Night by: Jennifer Brown
As I grew up, I was always drawn to stories of haunted houses, or unexplained things my family and friends had seen or heard. A part of me questioned it and always reminded myself of the old adage told to every young child as they are growing up—there are no such things as ghosts.
My mom talked about seeing an image of Jesus when my grandfather died. My grandmother talked about lying in bed and hearing the door to her basement shut and hearing someone walk through her living room and seeing a figure standing near her bed. I heard these stories and more growing up and they chilled me to the bone. I never believed any of it was possible or existed, even though my mom swore up and down she never imagined it.
That changed the night my grandmother died. I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing something. It was three or four in the morning, because I remember looking at the time on the VCR. What I heard had my skin crawling and my blood chilling. It was a voice I had heard often in the middle of the night as my grandmother was living with us while my mom took care of her. All I remember thinking at the time is, “No, this can't be right. I did not just hear grandma calling for mom. She's dead!”
The voice was calm and collected as it sometimes was. Most of the time my grandmother would be screaming at the top of her lungs. She suffered from dementia, and would get very wound up. But what I heard that night was her simply and softly calling my mother's name.
Part of me wanted to get up. Part of me was frozen to the spot. After getting up the next morning and confirming with my mom that she had felt a presence in the house after falling asleep in the living room around that same time, my beliefs were forever changed.
So far, this has been the first and only time in my life I can honestly say I believe in spirits and paranormal activity. It was enough to change my mind, that there was the possibility it exists.
To this day, I do still wonder what I may have seen if I had gotten up to look. As I write about this now, there is part of my heart that believes it was my grandmother's way of saying good bye, that she was at peace finally. Either way, I am glad it happened because it was a chance to experience what I had only heard from others and been frightened by. Yes, it was frightening but if it was truly her spirit bidding us good bye I wouldn't trade the moment for the world.
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