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Before I dive into the experiences of my family in my childhood home that I addressed in my last article, let me give you some context.
My mother lost one of her brothers in a tragic car accident at a very young age. Her mother passed of lung cancer years before I was born and I have a handful of memories of my great-grandmother from my very early years before she too passed.
Our home was sprinkled with old family heirlooms. My great-grandfather’s tobacco pipe sat in a wooden box along with other family members’ personal items, my grandmother’s proud face watched over the living room at all times, and countless other personal items and photographs were scattered around the house.
Smells of the past were most common and happened most often. My mother would tell me about times she was walking through the house and suddenly she’d walk through a pocket of space that had the distinct scent of tobacco smoke. She would stop and call out “Hi, grandpa Luke!” I would walk into those pockets to every once in a while and I got in the habit of also saying hello to my great-grandpa.
I should note here in this telling that no one in my house were smokers. There was no reason for there to suddenly be a pocket of air that smelled like that. Or like strong dated perfume.
My mother used to wear Oscar De La Renta perfume on special occasions. For anyone who knows the scent knows that it has a very distinct smell. Sweet and musky. The perfume I would smell throughout the house seemingly at random was NOT Oscar De La Renta.
The thing about the smells was that they would not stay in one spot for long. And they would disappear as quickly as they came.
After posting my last article about some of the experiences I had in my childhood home, my parents opened up to me about their own experiences. Some I already knew about that my mom had told me, but I was surprised when my dad started telling me his experiences.
He confirmed that whenever he was up in the attic he never felt alone. When he would turn around he always expected to come face-to-face with my mom’s brother.
The attic had two sections. One section was above the garage with an access only from the garage and had a single straightaway. The larger section used to have an access in the living room but my dad sealed it off after making a new access point in another room. This section was shaped like an “L” flipped upside-down. My dad told me he would always believe that when he looked down the first straightaway he’d see my uncle poking his head around the corner at him.
My dad also told me about how when he would look at the small vent every night when he took the dogs out before bed because he would expect to see someone looking down at him. I confirmed this with him, but I would never look. It wasn’t just at night it would happen to me. If I was doing yard work on that side of the house, I’d feel like someone was watching me and if I would look up I was convinced I’d see the fingers of a child prying the slots open to watch me.
My mom told me a story once that when my sibling and I were very young, she was across the house when she heard a child call out “Mommy!” She dropped what she was doing and raced across the house thinking something had happened to us. When she got to us, we were playing quietly and were oblivious to her worry since it wasn’t us that called her.
Remember the closet from the article before? It’s back for round two of paranormal activity.
My mom opened up to me about her experiences revolving around the same closet I saw my first spirit walk out of and into the wall. She admitted that it always felt off or uneasy. When the house was first built, that used to be the front door until my grandfather sealed it off. This would explain why I saw the man walk out of it like it was an entryway.
That closet continued to be a hot spot of activity up to the day my parents moved out.
I had moved out of state a few years ago and I bid the house a final farewell. Being a thousand miles away, I still called my parents whenever I could. It was during one of these phone calls that two things happened.
My mom was cleaning the house and, as usual, the dogs were under her feet. She was telling one of them to move out of the way when I heard another woman on the other side of the call clearly tell my mom “Oh, she’s fine.” I asked if someone was there with her and my mom was confused at first what I was talking about. When I repeated what I had heard my mom went quiet. The dog was laying in the closet walkway preventing her from vacuuming inside. She was telling her to move while standing in the doorway of the closet right when I heard the second woman tell my mom the dog was fine where she was laying.
That alone sent chills down my spine, but what happened next was on another level of paranormal.
My mom finished in the closet and while still on the phone with me she moved on to the next room. After a few minutes she had to walk back by the closet. As she passed by she noticed something laying in the doorway of the closet. A Cleveland Browns travel bag of my dad’s was laying perfectly on the floor. Certainly odd all on its own since the bag was previously tucked securely on a shelf in the closet and my dad was at work at the time, but that night my dad received a job offer out of state. It all made sense the next day when I got the good news and I knew that someone in the family was just getting the bag down for my dad to start packing.
My childhood home will always be my home. Spirits and all, it was where my family resided even long after their passing. There are more experiences I have had with family that has passed, but this is getting long and I will save those for another time.
Stay scary my friends and I’ll see you next time.