Paranormal Activity, Incident # 1

My Aunt Honey, Circa World War II

I have been reading one of my favorite blogs, http://daybydaywithsuz.blogspot.com/, and Suz has been talking about ghostly experiences. I thought I'd start sharing mine here, since I have had many.

I realize some people believe in spirits, some are skeptical yet open to the idea, and others are non-believers. That's fine; to each his own. But I know what I've experienced, and I know what happened to me was very real. I also was a non-believer until it started happening... so, all of you non-believers out there: BEWARE! ;-)

When I was 19, my very favorite and amazing Aunt Honey had a series of strokes shortly after her husband had passed away. With the last one, she became paralyzed on her left side and lost her ability to speak. My mother, her only sibling and very best friend, was devastated (We all were, but it hit my mother hardest.) We visited Aunt Honey in the hospital often. It was just terrible watching this once vibrant, funny, and articulate woman suddenly so helpless and unable to express herself.

Since it was only 1987 , we didn't have the luxury of scanning and printing pictures at home. My mother took a childhood picture of theirs -- from around 1928 -- and had Sears make a reproduction of it. She then framed it and took it to my aunt in the hospital. They hugged and cried. It clearly meant the world to her.

Tragically, Aunt Honey died shortly thereafter.

My mother had the same picture displayed on our piano, among several others. Now, you must realize -- being OCD, I have always noticed if a picture is even slightly off. I'm the annoying person in the doctor's office waiting room who will get up out of my seat to straighten a photo on the wall.... all eyes on me. I can't help it. It must be done!

One day, I was walking past the piano (which was right next to the hallway to my parents' and my bedroom), when I noticed the picture of my aunt and mother sitting sideways. Not off just a little, but turned completely to one side. I instinctively moved it back to its proper place.

I walked by a day or so later, and it was turned backwards. I sighed, wondering which parent was looking at the picture and not putting it back properly. How could they be so careless?! I moved it back again.

This went on for at least two weeks. Every day, sometimes more than once a day, the picture would be turned completely to one side or the other, or all the way around. For some reason, I never gave it any thought-- just fixed it every time.

One afternoon, I was sitting in the livingroom watching t.v., when I heard my mother ask outloud, "Well, for pete sakes! How many times a day do I have to straighten this picture?!"

I just stared at her... you know, that deer-in-the-headlights look. My dad came out from the kitchen, walking very slowly, with the same look on his face. He said, "Uh, I've been wondering the same thing. I've been fixing it, too." I echoed what he had said.

We all looked at each other and just blinked, saying nothing. When the realization of what had been happening really set in, my mother said, "You know, Honey never got a chance to say anything about this picture when I gave it to her. Maybe this is her way of acknowledging it, and letting us know she's still here."

And with that, the picture never moved again. We had gotten Aunt Honey's message, loud and clear.

Mission accomplished.

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