Sorting through the family photos, one can sometimes uncover the family ghosts....
I never understood as a kid why mom didn't like being photographed. We didn't have a lot of photos of her because her childhood home burned down. So, to me, she only started existing when she was in the WAVES in WWII Navy in the 40s.
I sorted through the photo box when she passed away since I was the family historian. I found dozens of pics of mom with strange photo oddities on them.
Other family members of hers - nothing. Taken on the same day with other people - nothing. Just the photos of mom with these anomalies. It might explain why when we got photos back from the drugstore, she dug through them immediately and discarded some....
In my book, Growing Up With Ghosts, I tell my family's experiences at Aspen Grove, and mother's were quite amazing. She regularly saw the dead people and they visited her after passing too.
Mother sat down her paintbrush in the art room and moved through the empty house towards the windows in the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of my siblings returning from school.
In my book, Growing Up With Ghosts, I tell my family's experiences at Aspen Grove, and mother's were quite amazing. She regularly saw the dead people and they visited her after passing too.
*
(excerpt from my book)
Mother sat down her paintbrush in the art room and moved through the empty house towards the windows in the kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of my siblings returning from school.
Outside, I pumped my legs on my tire swing awaiting their noisy arrival with longing. Every day they climbed the chain-link fence to the suburban neighborhood and disappeared with books in their hands on some mysterious adventure. With me being only 3, I had a while before I would understand their daily pilgrimages.
Turning away from the window, something caught my mother's eye and she swung back around to see a person walking down the driveway between the boxwood maze and the house, perhaps 50 feet away.
She squinted against the late afternoon light, trying to fully make out the wispy figure, its head bobbing and the features ill-defined, wearing way too much clothing for a warm day. Then, the stranger headed past the wisteria arbor and towards the huge walnut tree where I dragged my feet in the dirt and studied the ground oblivious to the intruder.
Mother swung open the back door and rushed out towards the tree where I spun around, unwinding the rope after winding it up.
“Sherry?”
I looked up at her.
“Did you see someone?”
I shook my head.
She stood puzzled, hands on her hips, studying the curve of the gravel driveway that went on down the hill to the bridge and up the other hill to the roadway. It was silent, clear and sunny, but the figure looked as if had cut through fog.
She shook her head and gathered me up, still unsettled by the eerie sight. With a few more backward glances, she ushered me quickly to the house.
*
We had a summer home on the Chesapeake in a quiet inlet called Mobjack Bay. We had a dear friend next door referred to as "Captain." One afternoon, mom laid down for a nap and awakened for no apparent reason, except she felt someone was there. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and saw Captain sitting in a chair. He was about 3/4 of his usual size and wearing some kind of robe. It took her minutes to acclimate herself to what was happening and then he was gone. Later that day, she got a call from Captain's wife, Ida. He had passed away earlier in the day.
I saw my father upon his death. It seems to have run in the family. Mom seemed to see these things more readily or maybe they saw her (if her photos are an indicator).
I moved on to sense them around me quite often. I used to get regular aura photos taken just to see if I could get them to show up around me.
In this particular photo above, I told the photographer that I would try to get the spirits that follow me everywhere to show up. She thought it was interesting, until the photo developed as we watched it....
Years later, a psychic, upon meeting me, would tell me I was followed by Vikings. I'm not at all surprised by that, as my father came from Norway and the family name was Thorvaldsen before they took on an American name. As well, when I was going through my divorce, I used to pep myself up to get through my days by asserting, "I am a Viking! I can do this!"
In this photo, I told the aura photographer that I was going to look into the space where I get my psychic insights; up and slightly to the right.
In this photo above, my brother had passed on a few weeks earlier and I told the photographer that I felt him over my right shoulder all the time.
It's interesting how people sense the dead. Some see them, others look off to a spot in space and can describe a spirit without physically seeing it, simply "recalling" in their minds. Others catch a scent, a light, a body sensation and know one is present.
We are amazing barometers, as the spirit that connects us is always present, before, during and after physical life....
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