Ghost Stories & Paranormal Encounters

My mother had 10 children with her first husband. A year after his death, I was born to my 45 year old mother, the result of a brief affair. When I was one year old, my mother met my step-dad who was 25 years younger than mom and younger than several of my half-siblings. Dad raised and loved me as his own, as he did not have children of his own.

I was first introduced to the concept of paranormal activity when I was around 12.  My Dad was a firm believer and we discussed it often. When questioned on why he held the belief in the supernatural, his response was always “If you ever have the opportunity to read the book ‘The Reincarnation of Bridie Murphy’, read it and you’ll understand.” Over the years, I made half-hearted attempts to locate a copy, but never did.

I remember our last discussion on the subject when I was 17.  Dad and I lamented about how frustrating it was to be unable to prove the existence of such things. We made a pact – whoever died first would return to the one remaining with the proof we both longed for.

The next year, in 1976, Dad fell from the roof of a 2 1/2 story house and died at the age of 40. I was too grief-stricken to even think about our pact for years, and when I did, it dawned on me that such things do not exist or Dad would have made contact with me to confirm it. After all, we had a pact.

April 2, 2006, would have been Dad’s 70th birthday. Early that Sunday morning, the phone rang, waking my husband and I. It was a woman neither of us knew who asked for me. At the time I owned an antique shop and she wanted to know if I wanted to buy her mother’s entire household estate. At breakfast, I jokingly told my husband, that maybe Dad had sent a sweet deal my way and off we went to look over the goods and make an offer, which was accepted.

I spent a week sorting the stuff and then hired a girl to help finish packing it up and moving it to my shop. Among the 3 trailer loads of boxes were 63 heavy boxes of books, which for the most part, I felt had little resale value. After all the boxes were removed, my helper and I started getting the furniture ready for moving. Under the last bed we were tearing down was another book. I told my helper to toss it in the trash bin – I had had it with all the books. When she tossed it she missed and it fell at my feet. I picked it up to toss it away and noticed the title – ‘The Search for Bridie Murphy’, the book Dad had wanted me to read all those years ago.

Maybe Dad made good on the pact after all.

What do you think? Any suggestions on how to nurture further contact?

Sent in by Sandi, Copyright 2009 TrueGhostTales.com