Growing up, I had a step-brother and two step-sisters. But in my house, we didn’t use ‘step’, we just called them ‘brother’ or ‘sister’. My brother watched over me and loved me…
Every morning before he went to school (he was in middle school, I was in elementary), he’d tap on my shoulder to wake me up. At night, once a week, we’d say a prayer together (our family isn’t religious, but he felt we should pray).
He died almost 4 years ago. He was fatally hit by a train and died instantly on the scene.
Every morning, I wake up from someone tapping on my shoulder. No one’s there.
Once a week, on the same day we’d pray together, I’d hear his voice saying, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I day before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” And I always whisper it with him.
Sometimes, when I’m in my brother’s old room before his death, I can feel someone in there with me.
And in the middle of the night, the Game-Cube we shared turns on. Even switched to his favorite game…
On the bus ride home, we cross the tracks where he was killed. One boy, a grade older, always yells, “Shut up! Jen’s bro was killed her. Let’s respect the dead!” And everyone’s quiet. The boy hated my brother.
So I know my brother’s still lingering around me. I don’t mind, I know he still loves me now matter what. I love you Justin, even if you’re not alive.
Sent in by Jennifer, Copyright 2011 TrueGhostTales.com