Category: Ghosts hauntings

The Will – Bring Out The UGLY

Bring out your dead…and out come the wolves!

I found out the hard way; family doesn’t stick together once money – big or small is involved. All of the promises made by my siblings, their words given to me, meant nothing. They wanted their share. No matter that Dad is still alive and I’ve been taking care of my parent’s property, outbuildings, and any needs or wants prior to mom’s death. No, they “permitted” me to do these; while living their lives carefree, without thinking twice about who’s minding the store.

The Verbal Agreement

Over the decades, my older brother and sister repeatedly had told me that they both wanted me to have our childhood home. Afterall, they had families and homes of their own. They had each stressed all of the work, care, time and money that I had contributed to our parents’ lives. I of course, did this out of obedience both to God and my to parents. It is the fourth commandment.

Mom Died, Then My Sister

Once the initial shock of losing them both back-to-back, had begun to ease, Dad made an appointment with his senior attorney. I went with Dad. Not only did the will need to be totally redone, but all beneficiaries changed for life insurance policies, all titles such as house and cars needed to have a beneficiary named and a transfer upon death form completed. The same for all bank accounts, holdings, deposit boxes, etc. She wanted this done as soon as possible and gave him two weeks to execute this. Another thing the attorney stressed was the house. Unbeknownst to me, three years prior when mom and dad had their will done by this same attorney, an in-depth discussion ensued. And it revolved around me. For at that time, I had been giving mom one of my two-week paychecks. She needed it for her treatments. Her disease was rare called Pemphigoid, and her health care would not cover her care outside her network. And the specialist she needed was outside her care. At that point, she had received one thousand a month from me to cover her treatments, for the last three years. Mom had told me that she would apply this money to her ledger, and it would go against “buying out” my younger sister. For mom knew that she would not relent to my receiving the house without her due share. (I dismissed all of this. For I felt that mom and dad would live another decade or more. Why, because they had each other and I did most of the hard work. Also, my younger sister [by only a few years] had told me on several occasions that I should have the house. Thus, keeping it in the family.) Ironically, at this time period an old family friend was this attorney’s receptionist. This friend told me recently that the attorney, who rarely spoke her opinions to her staff, let everyone know how impressed she was. The fact that I helped my aging parents live their lives out in their own home, while doing all repairs and upkeep at my cost, plus helping mom survive. I won’t forget it, and neither did the attorney. I had never met her before this meeting, but she paused and said to dad that now we needed to talk about me.

How I Played A Major Role In The Will

During this time, my older sister was actively dying, though it was not immediately communicated to us. The attorney, who asked if any children were disabled, then learned of our oldest sister. She had a rare form of Alzheimer’s called Benson’s Syndrome. She would die two weeks later. Then the attorney went onto to say that the next order of business was to ensure that I get the family home. I did not yet know about the years earlier discussion with mom. Nor was I expecting a candid conversation about the ‘purchasing’ of the house from my siblings. I remained quiet. Listening to dad talk about how they all expected $50K each or $150K for the house, I became anxious. Yes, the house is worth an easy $450K, but I was told worst case scenario paying my younger sister $50K from my retirement savings. Again, when I retire, from my 401K earnings! We she asked me if I could do that, I then spoke up and said that my oldest sister and brother are foregoing their share, and I was expecting my other sister to follow suit. If she doesn’t, then mom said $50K for her. Dad said: ‘They may have said they wanted you to have it. Don’t count on it, people get funny when there’s a will.’

They Did Get Funny About Money

Almost instantaneously, my brother wanted his share, along with of course my younger sister. Once my older sister had died, then dad without hesitation, cut out her husband and son from the will. No possessions, nothing. Several trips back and forth to the attorney’s office. Many meetings with her team to sort out insurance payments, titles, transfer upon death forms. Dad was secretive about the doling out of their possessions. His closely regarded valuables, mom’s jewelry, heirlooms-were all pawns for him. One week this went to my brother, the next week, no. By cutting out my older sister, now everything was split three ways. Long ago it was decided by my parents to go by the taxes only, to keep the house purchase by me affordable. So the sum I needed to pay for each share? $66,667.00. You read that right…

Leverage

After receiving several nasty calls from my brother stating (without prompt or provocation) that he never said he was going to give his share to me. Just for him to do an about face here and there, I wasn’t sure who to trust. My younger sister couldn’t wait to shout: “I’m not getting screwed out of my inheritance!” That cemented it. I had to pay her. Meanwhile my deceased sister’s husband wanted to vouch for me. Her knew my sister had told him that she wanted to forgo her share for me. My cousin, second that. Word spread and my extended family learned of the drama over the will. Now, the attorney wanted a meeting to draw up a family agreement.

The Family Meeting

You could feel the chill. No one looked each other in the eyes. And as per usual, I had to pick my brother up and take him to the meeting. For years now, this had become a routine. But if he were to be a Judas to me – he can get his own ride! Dad said no. He claimed my brother was going to keep his word to me, though reluctantly. I had heatedly told dad the night before, if I was to be expected to pay out $134K, I might as well go to our nearest city. I could get two homes for that! No joke. I told him I’d move out and let my younger sister take care of him. For mom had told me at the most $50K for my sister. Thinking, for he knew the consequences, that he would wind up in a senior home, he became frightened. He told me later, that he called my brother and struck a bargain with him. If he kept his promise to me, dad would leave him his Model A, his tools, contracting equipment, guitar equipment and coin collection. But my brother demanded dad’s prized electric guitar, too. Dad would not relinquish the guitar, no that was dad’s leverage. Also, he proposed the $50K to my sister.

Back to the meeting, when the attorney asked if my brother wanted his share, he quietly said; “No.” Thank God. Now onto my sister. For clarification, there are seventeen barn cats on the property. I’ve taken care of them, too. Some are feral. All but one have been neutered or spayed. The oldest at that time was 17 years. She used them as collateral as leverage to get what she wanted. Extortion. It was ugly. She looked at the attorney and said, “I’ll take the $50,000 if she takes all but two of the cats to a no-kill shelter. What’s it going to be. The cats or the house?” I was not expecting such a low, manipulative, evil, disgusting, heartless blow from my own sister, who I doted on in her life. She’s sick, a bi-polar off her meds by her own admission. It was despicable. I stood up, I told her that she was not to touch those animals. I was ready to walk. I meant it. The attorney shouted for me to sit down. She said this is easy to rectify. You will pay her upon your father’s death $66,667.00. My sister smugly agreed to this.

Not Too Fast – Still Greedy

The attorney would get back to us in approximately 3 weeks, papers drawn each of us were to sign and it was written in stone. Oh, no. Three months went by, why? Because my brother and sister were bickering over the phone. My brother wanted to know why she was so greedy. They could each have received $33,000 from me. She took offense and called the attorney! She told the attorney that my brother needed his share! She stirred up more trouble. So, when I thought, I was going to sign the final papers, I was met with the question of buying my brother out for another $66.667.00! So $134K of my retirement. The answer was no. I stood up and said I’m done. She asked me to step out of the room while she spoke to dad. Later I was called in. Dad would add more of his savings to brother’s tally. This he felt, would level the shares. After we left, I let dad know that if they did not sign this agreement in the next two days, I was pulling out, moving out and I could care less. I meant it. Oh, they beat feet to sign it.

At What cost?

All of this to fulfill my promise to mom to keep it in the family. All this so I could leave it to my deceased sisters’ grandson. All of this nonsense so my dad could stay in his home. For I am just the curator, the steward, the target of contempt. This is a cautionary tale for you, please learn from it.

Selecting Headstones

I Was In No Hurry To See Their Names On Granite

Nor was Dad. Yes, it took 10 months to make the necessary decision to purchase their headstone markers. Bear in mind, we had to get through all of the legalities first. It not only involved making necessary calls to the likes of life insurance companies, banks, social security, doctor offices and hospitals. More time consuming was the transfer of titles; the house, the cars, the safety deposit box, plus naming new beneficiaries. Then there was the claiming of the life insurance policies, which involved a senior attorney. This cascaded into a 5 month long will revision and family agreement. The will was a drawn-out ordeal. It was horrendous and is the focus of an upcoming post.

The Time Had Come

After letting the dust of the will settle and subside, it became apparent that we must choose a headstone for mom. For any longer a wait would become disrespectful. Months ago, my brother-in-law decided that whatever we chose for mom, he would follow suit for my sister’s headstone. We had received several postcards from a local memorial company. God knows how they received our information. I had learned during the funeral process that from one funeral home to another, when pricing a traditional funeral, the final cost is consistent. One just needs to get the job done. With this mentality, I made the appointment. When the receptionist answered, she asked me a few screening questions. The first was if the marker was for the living or deceased. I had not realized that some have the foresight to plan.

Monument Appointment

Many months before Mom died, in fact she was not at risk of dying, she discussed purchasing the opening/closing of our family plots. Just two years prior, we had purchased eight plots in our church cemetery. After purchasing the opening/closing costs, she wanted to then work on a monument. She liked the idea of a bench with the family name on it. I had told her that we should do that in the Spring with my tax return. Now, choosing the headstone for her, I had let dad know of her wishes. Dad was leery that the bench would be too costly.

Monument Office Visit

At our appointment, I took note of how informal the atmosphere appeared. Our senior representative, and his colleague were both dressed very casually. No one spoke in hushed tones. Once again, as with the funeral home visit, a potential customer just walked in and inquired about a grave marker. As with that prior incident, the customer was encouraged to schedule an appointment. Once inside the office, the first order of business; choosing the stone. The stone choice determines the price. I explained that mom loved her Irish heritage, and I thought that a green stone with gold lettering would be a real tribute to her. Quickly, he shot that down. Green stones were some of the most expensive, hard to acquire and gold lettering extremely high priced. He quickly pointed to a pink stone color (their most popular price). I’ve seen that many times at our cemetery. They can keep it. I liked the next tier scheme of blue/gray/red/black mix. Dad did, too. From there he immediately went over the standard shape for a double monument. Dad had wanted a shared marker. The thickness of the marker 8 inches down to 6 inches, the width 42 inches trimmed to 36 inches and the base from 48 inches cut to 42 inches would significantly affect the pricing. Also built into the price, but provided by our cemetery, was the foundation concrete footer. This footer is poured three foot deep 18 inches wide, with the length determined by our final headstone choice. These footers are also grouped with other orders, and when enough are filled a contractor then pours the foundations. The wait is usually 4 to 6 months. Right about the same time as our stone would be finished; after our art approval and payment.

Pricing!

Being proficient on the design program, our rep quickly filled in our contact information and on a large 3-foot screen began to design some marker concepts. Initially in grays, he added Mom’s name and dates, then dads. He zoomed in and out, repositioned until he pleasantly displayed all. He explained that built into the cost, any artwork designs could be added. Since we our Catholic, I asked about a Crucifix. He had about six different renderings, but I liked the Traditional one. He effortlessly put one in the center. Knowing that mom was Irish, he also suggested a shamrock in the corner above her name. Then came the pricing $7600.00 plus tax and $1200.00 for the footer. It was then that I mentioned mom wanting a bench which would have been even higher. But lo and behold, our rep said otherwise! It actually would be much lower, with little compromise. Quickly he made a new draft, same stone, same type style, same lettering, same art but now more room to put all of the siblings first names! After he put the final touches on the new concept, he colorized it with our stone and voile! The price was $5600.00 plus tax and $1200.00

Sold

We were very pleased, especially to get what mom wanted and the price was exceptional. From there we started the concept for my sister’s stone. Though my brother-in-law was paying for hers separately, he asked that we choose it. For she is buried directly behind mom. They died 10 weeks apart. For hers, the process was much quicker, since stone, shape, thickness, type were all chosen prior. When it came to the art, I asked about a Mary image. Again, he had several, but one with her head, shoulders and praying hands with Rosary really stood out. Our rep made it work. It’s beautiful. And the cost $3900.00 plus tax and $1000.00 for the footer. My brother-in-law approved it. He scheduled his own appointment for payment. While there, he also had his name engraved on the back side. For our plots are in the shape of the Cross, so he will be buried behind my sister. All is paid for, so come Spring, footers will be poured. Shortly thereafter, their headstones will be installed, with a small blessing ceremony by our Priest.

Eternal rest grant unto them oh Lord. And let perpetually light shine upon them. May they rest in peace, amen. May their souls and all the faithful departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

The Smell Of Dying

The Odor Of The Dying

Once you are hit with the scent of the actively dying, you’ll never forget it. I’ve tried to come up with some comparison, to give you an idea of the stench. I’ve decided that the best description is the nauseating combination of hospital antiseptic blended with putrid festering infection.

Prior to the actively dying stage, I did not notice any odors coming from my mom nor sister. Once informed that they were dying, with only hours or day/days left to live, that changed. During the first few hours, I barely perceived a faint breath odor. As the hours passed, the stench started to cling to their persons. As the hours waned, and I moved back and forth from the waiting room to their beds, the smell became more pronounced.

I Kept The Comments To Myself Out of Respect

The stink quickly became repulsive. It started to cling to me. It reminded me of going to nightclubs where others cigarette smoke would cling to your clothes the next morning. Or how the stench of artificial fog from concerts would remain in your hair until you washed it away. Even my hands would reek of this curious putrid smell of my dying family members. Even after washing, I could still smell it. I never mentioned it though, until I let it slip to my brother-in-law. He told me a nurse had said it was due to the body shutting down. Infection takes over.

Stench Permeates The Rooms

Quickly, the smell overpowered my dying sisters’ room. Hers was an agonizing death, taking six days for her frail body to slowly starve to death. She had a rare form of early onset Alzheimer’s, called Benson’s Syndrome. Triggered by mom’s surprise stroke, my sister declined rapidly. She refused to eat or drink, sometimes becoming violent. Her dehydration led to infections, kidney failure, self-starvation and death. As she lay dying, unconscious from medications to ease her pains of death, her body emitted the queasy, noxious smells that filled her room. As soon as you entered her room there was no mistaking it. Once you moved closer to her face the more pungent it became. One would tolerate it though, because of the sadness of it all.

Mom’s death was swifter. Once the ventilator was removed, she attempted to breathe on her own for an hour. Then the gasping, the struggling for air, followed by the administering of ‘comfort care,’ drugs to help her die with minimal pain or discomfort. She lived for 24 hours. During this time family and friends rotated visits. A nurse told me mom was ‘Popular. She has more visitors than anyone. ‘ I was at disbelief. She went on to tell me that mom has had a constant stream of visitors and more flowers than anyone on the ward. During these in and out visits that’s when I first noticed the curious smell. It definitely was not as prevalent with mom as it was with my sister. But it was there, on her breath, on her hair. Later, when it was my sisters turn to die, I recognized it for what it was, the smell of the dying.

Long after I left the hospital, even days after their deaths, I could still smell that, dare I say, disgusting odor. I was using hand sanitizer; the scent was still there. Even after shampooing, still it clung. For me it took at least 5 days to rid myself of the scentof death.

We Buried Our Sister

Two months After Mom

You really do just go through the motions. I trudged through work and didn’t speak of it. At night I gathered as many photos as possible of her that I had. Prior to her death, I gave my brother-in-law the phone number of mom’s funeral director. This way, we could just do a repeat of her funeral. My sister would have liked that. In fact, just two months prior, she was with Dad and I at the funeral home while we made mom’s arrangements. The funeral director was aware of her condition. I explained to my BIL that this would make things easier. I met my BIL at the funeral home’s main location. The previous director greeted me with raised arms; “What happened?” Mom happened, and my sister rapidly declined. My BIL and I chose exactly the same casket and vault with the opposite complementary prayer card. I gave the director my copy of my sisters’ plot. Mom had the foresight two years ago to have us buy plots at our church cemetery. My BIL was going to have his niece help pick out my sisters’ burial clothes. It was hard for him to get through this, but what could I say? It was done. We just had to honor her. Once again, I had to write her obituary, and I needed to draft her eulogy. He agreed to ask the same women to read in our stead at the Mass funeral. The director excused himself while he called our priest to procure a Mass date and confirm that we could have the showing, Mass and burial and wake all in one day. He came back with two dates, the coming Friday or Saturday. I insisted on the Saturday, the 28TH. It would allow more to show, it was two days after her only son’s birthday, and it happened to be my birthday. It was perfect.

Funeral

Since Mom’s funeral was still fresh, we were accustomed to the procedures. I had made two photo boards (only one for the church parlor, the other for the Knights of Colombus Hall) and placed one in the Church. Then, I looked towards my sister’s casket. She was in her forest green dress with a white sweater. The sweater to hide her bone thin frame. Her jaw was clamped tight, only I knew it was due to her jaw being open. Her makeup was sparse, and had I known, I would have put eyeliner and mascara on her. So, I took lipstick and added color to her gaunt cheeks and color to her pale lips. One day earlier, by coincidence, my BIL’s sister knew the beautician appointed to set my sisters hair. She had attempted to lighten it blonde (because of my sister’s Alzheimer’s dementia she could not tolerate the procedure of lightening her hair) to cover the dark gray it had become. But, because of the cold storage it did not hold. And, as before, I was able to ask for a lock of her hair. I had cut a few strands in the hospital, but since the beautician trimmed her hair, now her son and husband could have some, too. Once again, her bangs were back like she used to wear it.

Visitation

Before the 10:00 A.M. opening, people started arriving. Soon I was called to stand at the head of her casket. I greeted her former classmates, parishioners, neighbors, colleagues, family and friends. Some 150 people were inline outside of the church waiting to give their condolences. I told my sister at every interval that she had done well. For I know that the dead are made to attend their funerals. They stand at the foot of their caskets. They wait for prayers. I prayed the Eternal Rest prayer and St. Gertrudes too. After some time, I looked to see out Priest standing near the foyer. I snuck up to him and asked if it was time for the Mass. At this point many more were still outside. He graciously said that we would wait until everyone was seated. One of her Catholic schoolmates mistook me for my sister, and another commented, that they, too were taken aback. Yet, another said: “She was sweet.” The funeral director assisted by my sister’s family member, a retired funeral director, helped turn her casket away from the crowd. Once turned, the director cranked the casket bottom and lowered my sister. He looked at me said; “Okay?” I nodded and he shut and locked her casket for Mass to begin. My BIL and nephew unfolded the mantle to cover her casket for Mass, and I followed the procession until taking my place in the pew.

Burial And Wake

After the Mass, easily 60 or more processed to the cemetery. Again, the brief ceremony of committing her body was performed at a holding place. For she was buried about 75 feet away right behind mom. Then as before we walked to the nearby hall for the luncheon. Easily 85 people attended as her grandchild ran around the hall playing with the toys I had brought. People mulled over her photo boards and conversed with each other, all talking about the turn out. Some had wandered over to Mom’s grave, too. Afterwards, my BIL called to talk about the amazing large turnout and that it probably helped that it was Saturday. He brought up the fact that it had spread around the church that it was my birthday, he didn’t realize. Yes, it was and it was perfect.

My Sister Has Died

Benson’s Syndrome – Has Taken Her at Only 62 Years Old

Our oldest Sister has died, only two months after mom died. I was hoping that she would not decline, that if we did not speak of mom’s death, in essence it could be blocked by her dementia.

Her symptoms were spread out over a decade. She had aches and pains, then severe back pain, followed by poor eyesight. She was diagnosed with sciatica, the fibromyalgia, later cataracts. She was a grade schoolteacher, held a master’s degree. Seemingly one day, she started forgetting things. Her principal advised her to seek disability. About a year later she was approved and was put on disability. Then suddenly, she couldn’t operate her phone, nor navigate her TV remote. Mom and I insisted we take her to her doctor; we had a whole list of things to discuss. The hurdle was HEPA. After much cajoling, my brother-in-law allowed us access. Once there, my sister, barely walking at a snail’s pace could not even remember her birthdate. Her doctor revealed that a year prior, during an ER visit when she fell out of bed and ‘didn’t feel right,’ her scans revealed dementia. Mom and I were silent, not wanting to alarm my sister. She sat silently at that time she had a tick of smacking her lips. Finally, when asked she said that no one had ever told her that.

Fear Of Nursing Homes

Immediately, she became petrified of being put into a nursing home. I promised her that this would not happen, over my dead body and I meant it. After breaking the news to her husband, who claimed he was never told either, so mom and I got to work. We knew caregivers had to be put into place. She kept saying she did not want to be home alone, that if she knew she was going to lose her mind she did not want to live. Yes, it was awful.

Fidgeting Uncomfortable Repeating

Once home we researched the dementia diagnosis and prepared ourselves for the following weeks appointment. Mom agreed to watch her for the next weeks with dad until caregivers could be found. I was prepared to pay out of pocket, and I did so, until her needs became too great. Eventually all of her disability went to paying various caregivers. Early on, I took her to a counsellor. Afterall, what could I tell her about dying? During our research it became apparent that her lifespan was cut down by a third. We kept this to ourselves, knowing that upsetting news brought on hallucinations. She began seeing ants everywhere. My BIL went through the motions of insecticides to appease her. Her clothes itched or felt off. She couldn’t dress herself, nor bathe, nor brush her teeth. Make-up irritated her. She couldn’t find the toilet seat. Her stare was far off, never making eye contact but in the general direction.

Eating – Food For thought

Almost immediately I told her that she must eat. I told her “Food for thought” which she repeated. Mom was cooking breakfast and lunch for her, and we had hopes for 5 more years. By the time caregivers were onboard, she wanted to go out to lunch and shop, etc. It was costly for the first 4 months or so, but I was happy to keep her occupied. During that period, I cleaned her home a few times due to her inability. She grew accustomed to various caregivers, just wanting company. She always wanted visitors, anything to keep her mind preoccupied. The TV was on constantly; it was her crutch. She needed her little dog beside her for comfort. But eating became worrisome for us. She mostly refused her caregivers; she would only eat for mom and dad.

Benson’s Syndrome

A year later, for it took that long to get a neurologist appointment, she was finally diagnosed with Benson’s Syndrome. This rare disease affects the back of the brain, mainly sight, so that you cannot determine precisely what you are seeing. Also, it is early onset affecting those in their 50’s. She was 60 then. Looking back the symptoms started decades prior, so all of her ailments if strung together would have pointed to this. Once I looked into this and did some calculating, I knew we did not have long with her.

Mom

Mom’s unexpected stroke left me and my BIL with a decision to shield her of mom’s condition. Mom could not speak, and she talked to my sister several times daily on the phone. He covered for her, until it became clear that mom was dire. When mom was pulled off the ventilator and struggled to breathe, my BIL situated my sister as close as he could to mom’s side. Try as I might, I’ve retained the image of my sister trying to reach in the direction of mom, saying; “Mommy don’t leave me!”

Doomed

Afraid after the burial, that she would rapidly worsen and preoccupied with Dad, I tried to sparingly speak to her. Unbeknownst, due to her lack of eating and drinking, she had another UTI which had to be treated. It worsened and she was hospitalized for dehydration. When I visited her, she was starving, I fed her and I stayed there until she fell asleep. She came home for a few days, but had to go back in, this time for another infection and more dehydration. She never came home.

I Didn’t Realize She Was Dying

Still dealing with mom, helping dad and sorting things out, for Christmas was coming, I thought she would stabilize and come home. Afterall she just ate 1200 calories for me. The next day when I visited her in a different hospital room and she was unresponsive, a nurse told me that she was actively dying. She had hours maybe a day to live. I had no idea.

Missed Signs

On a prior visit, on a different ward, she was twitching jerking. I was told that was from lack of food. Starvation. They fed her with an IV to stabilize her. She pulled out her catheter twice. She had to be video monitored. On one occasion, when we were alone, she was sleeping. She roused and I became worried when see looked at the foot of her bed and said sweetly: “What’s your name? Oh, you’re not allowed to say.” I said, “Oh, no.” She replied: “what?” I said, “I didn’t want you to decline so soon.” I also told her of all the accomplishments she achieved. Her smiling reply: “No I didn’t!” Now, on the hospice ward, during which I fed her ice cream and candy, she paused and said: “Comfort Me!” She was distressed. I did my best and told her not to be afraid. She went back to jabbering nonsense, then once again panicked asked: “Comfort me!” I tried, but it did not cross my mind she was dying. Once the nurse told me, I cried. The nurse said she had been seeing children. My oldest sister who was so good at handling all of our family functions, orchestrating countless functions was dying of starvation. She was vivacious, social and compassionate. And it came down to me to tell everyone that she had hours or days to live. This was on a Sunday. Our priest who had already spent time with her on the other floor, came immediately. Later he told me he gave her the apostolic pardon. Her friends from out-of-state came. Her former husband, friends and extended family, too.

Lights Flickering

In her room a recessed light to her left started flickering. It wasn’t like that prior. It did this for an entire day, then righted itself. As with mom, I prayed as many rosaries as I could, and in Latin. I knew by this point that I could not move the mountain of God and concentrated on sparing her soul from penance. I whispered into her ear that she was a success. I told her that if she found herself in darkness, to look for the light. Call out to Jesus or Mary or Joseph. I repeated this for several days when alone with her. Again, as with mom, I noticed that several men could not stomach to see her. So, her visits with the men in her life were brief, usually 15 minutes at best. She never again was coherent. She was on medication and any agitation, grimace or leg movement warranted increasing her pain meds.

Six Days Later

My sister died six days later on her grandsons second birthday, at 1:20 A.M. My BIL called me at 1:30 A.M. He was at home when the nurse called him. He wasn’t going down to the hospital. I called my other sister and being upset; she wasn’t coming either. I woke up Dad, and he tried to dissuade me, too. I called the nurses station and asked if I could come. She met me at an entrance and granted me access. There my sister was in her dimly lit room at 1:55 A.M. Death is not pretty. Her mouth was open to her chest. She was sallow from starvation, and she was gone. Never again will I speak to her, nor will she enjoy her retirement, nor dote on her only grandson. I knelt by her bedside and sobbed. The nurse came in and said: “Oh, honey.” I stayed a half hour and prayed and paced and took pictures of her, for me. Michele, all of my days I will miss what could have been. May the Lord God in Heaven please take pity on the soul of my sister.

Limbo: Not All Souls Who Wander Are Lost…

I’ve read and experienced, that the dead communicate through dreams.

During prayer I asked that if any poor souls, albeit if I had worked with them and not even known them, needed my intercession to let me be made aware. As par for the course, two days later I had the following dream.

The Funeral Home.

I found myself in the main showing room of a vast, formal funeral home. I knew it was a funeral home and, like those you are familiar with, it was well lit with many lamps, coffee tables, loveseat, chairs and a desk. All the furnishings facing towards the lights. The was a massive funeral home. The ceiling soared almost cathedral-like. And like many funeral homes, there were partitions. This well-lit section was huge possibly enormous 75 feet wide by 50 in depth before the open partitions. These open, looming sliding solid wood paneled doors, divided the showroom from the foyer. As you approached the partition doors, the room became dimmer and dimmer. Centered squarely in the foyer was an ascending staircase. Upon the landing the railing went to the left and right, with the second floor disappearing in the darkness. I knew not to cross over the threshold of the partition doors, into the darkened foyer.

Three cats to comfort me …

I soon realized that three of “my” cats were with me in the showroom. They were comfortable, sitting on tables and the desk. I knew they were mine and clearly recognized one of them that I currently have. I felt the foreboding, I knew I didn’t want to be there, but I was aware that I must stay. Again, like typical funeral homes, I made my way instinctively to the kitchen. It was off to the right of the showroom, so no need to enter the foyer.

The Kitchen

Once I entered the small kitchen, I went to the sink and peered out the window. It was dusk outside. The cat I recognized, jumped on the countertop. I opened a cabinet door to find her something to eat. It was then that while still looking out the window, I said to myself: “If I could only make it to morning I’ll be fine. I must stay until then.”

Return To The Showroom…

Once back into the showroom, I thought: “I need to stay here by the desk, sofas, in the light until morning.” I was uneasy about the open partition doors. This opening, humongous, approximately 30 feet wide, made me insecure. I felt the need to have it closed. But yet, it remained open. I was not to attempt to close them. I innately knew I could have crossed over into the darkened area, I was permitted, but with reserve. I didn’t want to go but would have if the need arose. I scanned the showroom to make sure all the cats were accounted for, and well clear of the dimly lit area. I told the cats to stay on this side of the room. I looked at the sofa by the desk, again, all furniture faced away from the looming doors. I thought: “Good, I won’t be looking that direction. I can wait out the night.”

The Young Woman

Just then I looked up at the darkened opening of the doors. I caught glimpse of her walking mid-way through the foyer. Striding easily, from right to left, a young thirty something, woman. She had long blonde hair, pulled back and wearing a distinctive red vest. The vests worn by the big box home improvement retail chain. (Remember I had asked if any former co-workers known or unknown in need). I did not know recognize her, but of course remembered the workplace. I immediately yelled: “Hey!” She turned her head to face me but continued her pace until she disappeared from the frame of the doors, into the hidden darkness of the foyer.

I Pursued Her…

Without hesitation, I quickly went after her into the darkness around the left partition door. She was there but lying down in the dark. The residual light from the showroom enabled me to see her. I bent over her and said: “Do you know you’re dead? You can’t stay here in this darkness? You need to be with God.” I was insistent. She sat up and said: “No, I like it here. I’m staying. You should come here, too.” I was incredulous; “Why would you like it here? No, no, this isn’t good.”

Justification, Persuasion…

The deceased woman stood and tried to influence me by saying: “I can do what I want here, I’m staying.” She tried to coax, justifying her reasoning. She waved me on as she went deeper into the dark. I had the impression there were a sparse few along with her. Amazed I shook it off and stepped back into the showroom.

The Dream Ended…

Immediately the dream ended. Upon awakening, I knew that not all souls want to be prayed for. A token few like where they are at. They do not want to be helped along. They want to roam in limbo. It was a revelation to me. I have no idea who she was but, apparently, we worked for the same company at one time. Also, I feel for me the “three” cats meant safety, a sort of security, like home. As you can read, this was an Indepth dream, with a clear message for me. And I didn’t fail to receive it!

Dead Body “Blubber”

Tales From A Funeral Home Mortuary Plumber…

Another fantastic tale from an unlikely source, your commercial/residential local plumber. A mutual friend of mine told me about her run-in with her companies’ plumber. After fixing their restroom sink, the plumber met her for payment. He went onto tell her about his years as a commercial plumber. So let’s begin…

He started out as an apprentice for a local plumbing company. Since he was low on the totem, he was given all of the grunt work and grimy jobs. He was usually teamed with a journeyman plumber. His first solo assignment was at the local metro hospital. There was a backup clog suspected to be originating from the basement. Maintenance lead him down into the dimly lit basement, where he drilled open access panels. From there down in “the pit” he started to smell it. After cutting the water supply, he wrenched open all threaded sections until he located the source.

THE SMELL…

He knew he found the source, because the smell preceded it. After cutting the section of pipe, that when he first seen “it.”

THE “BLUBBER”

There inside the pipe, lining the walls, blocking the center was the “blubber.” The “blubber,” a yellowish white, substance that resembled a jiggly like mayonnaise or Go-Jo hand cleaner. The stench was over-powering. After attempting to scoop it out, he made the decision to cut in a new section of pipe.

Coming Up For Air…

He needed to breathe, so enroute he encountered the maintenance worker who let him know that the “blubber” he found was actually human fat! The network of pipe connects the surgery rooms to the hospital morgue. And over the years the buildup of fat collects in the pipes causing the back-up. It was explained that during the prep in the hospital morgue, that all fluids and fat are drained from the bodies – right down the drain.

Once completed, he crawled out of “the pit” and called into his employer. He had to go home. He went immediately home to shower and throw out his clothes. But – now he was considered the “blubber” specialist.

FUNERAL HOME “Blubber”

From there, he became the ‘go-to’ plumber for several area funeral homes. It was explained to him that, during the embalming process, all fluids, blood, infections, fat are sucked and washed away before the preservation can begin. Now, he arrives fully aware of the stench and wears disposable clothing. He also factors in a stop home to shower and change. He digs up the drains, cleans up pipes or replaces existing. Still the “blubber” and the are smell over-powering.

His Own Company – after gaining a reputation, he started his own plumbing company. He scored several more funeral homes – and another hospital.

Another Hospital

The latest account, another hospital had a serious clog, so once again he suited up and went in. A similar scenario of basement level pipe layout. Again, there was an access pit. He could smell it…

“PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, DON’T LET IT CONNECT TO THE MORGUE…”

As he was wrenching on the pipe the odor made him gag. “Please, please, please don’t let it connect to the morgue!” He was muttering. Yes, it did connect to the morgue. Coming up for air, he encountered a doctor. “How can you take that smell?” The doctor looked at him.

“DON’T YOU HAVE ANY PASTE?”

The doctor just looked at him. “Don’t you have any paste?” Here, those doctors and workers use a waxy paste on their upper lip/under their nose to cancel out the odor. The doctor was amazed that the plumber was able to withstand the odor. He said –

“YOU’LL SMELL THAT FOR A MONTH”

The plumber was given the paste and now puts it on every service call to a hospital or funeral home!

HAUNTED ESTATE SALE CLOTHING

When asked about any clinging ghosts, he had several stories to tell. These were from a different sort. His parents are both auctioneers. And the plumber collects vintage men’s clothing. If he finds something that fits, he absolutely adds it to his collection. Once home, things start to happen.

Kitchen cabinets are heard clanking and banging. Out of the corner of his eye, dark, darting shadows. Rapping on walls and windows.

Several Girlfriends Have Left Him

He’s went through several girlfriends who just can’t take the commotion. He even relocated, purchased a new to him home, and the ghosts came with him! She left him.

HE MOVED

He did move, met someone new and things went smoothly. Then he was taking a shower. As he was shaving, he seen it in the mirror. The hand towel on the rack started to shake. It was shaking violently. There was no tremor. He knew it followed him – again. He’s hoping that his new girlfriend doesn’t leave him.

He told my friend several times – “I think I attract them.”

My question is this – does the “blubber” flush into our water supply?


Whistling Past The Cemetery

True Ghost Encounters Late Night At The Cemetery!

An old friend reminded me of the fact that “the gift” runs in her family. In fact her Aunt, her two male cousins all have a “sixth sense.” Hers, deals with the discernment of spirits and communication with the dead, usually in her dreams. She recounted one of her earliest experiences. “When I was eight years old, I stayed overnight with my Aunt Carol. My Aunt also has the gift. Her house was directly across from an older cemetery, but still in use. She has two sons (both with some gifts, too) but none of us were scared of it. We were raised to respect the dead, so no thrill seeking. I stayed in her guest bedroom. Us kids went to bed around 9:00 P.M. Wee into the morning, I distinctly remember being woke up. Now, this room had a window that faced the cemetery. I was drawn to the window. After my eyes adjusted – I seen them! There were hundreds of spirits. They were dancing! These ghosts were of mixed eras – Civil War, Flappers, Dresses with corsets, I distinctly seen pinstriped suits, too.

I ran into my Aunts room, waking her up. I told her ghosts were dancing in the cemetery, come quick! She did follow me and peered out the window. I said, “let’s go over there!” But she wisely said, “I see them too, but we can’t disturb the spirits.” I really wanted to go over to them, but instead we watched them dance around for at least half an hour. Finally, my Aunt said we needed to get back to bed as it was almost 4:00 A.M. by this point.” I asked her to describe how they appeared to her. “Have you ever seen ‘Haunted Mansion’? They were like that, translucent, and white, but a tint of color.” So my take is maybe, just maybe, the film “Carnival Of Souls,” had it right!

Late Night At Old Cemetery

So here’s a few tales about visiting the old local cemetery at night. An acquaintance told me about her and her man visiting a local cemetery late at night. This cemetery sits high on hills and happens to have a shrine cut into the front of the hill. This is where pilgrims may light a votive candle, which at the time, was open around the clock.

So, neither one was Catholic, but decided to go because of all of the lore that surrounds this cemetery. First, there’s the “Stairway to Heaven” steps that rise up a large hill, leading to a life-size Crucifix. Again, this is a 200-year-old cemetery, so supposedly at night, thrill seekers have seen an eerie glow around the stairway. Second, there’s another nearby hill, where again after a series of steps, you reach a life-size Crucifixion scene mounted high on a granite base. Many have seen white mist surrounding this. So the couple are making their way to the candle shrine, when he suddenly stops. On the hill atop of the shrine were dozens of shadow figures, backlight by a white glow. She seen them, too. They watched for a few seconds as the shadows gathered closer to hill slope to watch them. The couple whispered to each other – “Let’s go.” And they back peddled out of there. When the had safely drove away, they discussed what had happened. They both concluded that the shadows did not want them there, because they were just thrill-seekers!

I have more tales about this cemetery which I plan on posting soon. Do I believe it’s haunted? No. I went to school there, classmates are buried there, I visit it regularly. Our family plots are there! If anything, this cemetery is blessed and serene. But I do know it’s protected, which I feel is what the couple witnessed.

Amityville – The REAL Story From A Resident

My Discussion With A Real Current Resident And Who Lived There During The Defeo Incident In 1974

I’ve met an acquaintance from Amityville New York. Once I heard that – I had to ask about THE House, THE movie and what’s it like now… :

It’s a fascinating story. I do remember reading that Alec Baldwin grew up in Amityville, too. He said that no one believed the Lutz story either.

Do you remember much about the aftermath? I’m assuming curfews, fear and camera crews? Were you/kids afraid to go near the place? And how do you handle all of the publicity and inquiries from people like me!?

Also – did the old movie scare the crap out of you? Or was it forbidden to watch? Is ten minutes away too close? I’m a sissy!

Here’s the response…

I’ve lived in Amity for about 50 years and in my current house 18 years. We live about 10 minutes from Ocean Ave. It’s a gorgeous neighborhood with trees up and down the sidewalks and a very wide street down the middle. Very picturesque. The facade of the house is very different than the one you are used to seeing in the posters/films. I imagine the work was done to discourage visitors to the house. I think someone lives there, but I can’t swear to that.

My family had just moved to Amity in 1974 when the DeFeo Murders happened. I remember my parents talking about it. I think Ron DeFeo died in prison a few years ago. As for the other happenings, there are many sides to that story. There is a documentary out there where Ron DeFeo says his sister murdered the father and the mother killed the siblings and he only killed the sister out of self defense. There are so many different stories from DeFeo that it’s hard to know what really happened that night. As for the Lutzs’, no one really knows if any of what they claim is true. None of the neighbors ever reported anything unusual about the house and as far as I know, nothing weird has happened since. It’s just a really beautiful old house in a nice quiet neighborhood.

I’ve lived here for so long, I never think the murders or the Lutzs until someone asks about the house. We are not so close that we see the house everyday but it’s about 10 minutes from my house. Personally, I think it’s a beautiful house and I would live there. I love that neighborhood…so beautiful and quiet and quaint. I don’t think news crews have been in front of the house for years. (Overnight parking is not allowed in Amity because of the chaos from the movie.) There really is no reason to. I saw the Margot Kidder/James Brolin movie in the theaters with my mom. I thought this version was much creepier than the Ryan Reynolds remake. 

 Also if you ever visit the Amityville Historical Museum, there is absolutely no mention of the murders in any way.

What a unique story and I am grateful for your answers. Thank you for sharing!

Haunted Retail – Stories From The Frontlines…

I’ve managed to accumulate several tales from the workers and managers at several local chain stores. And not all are grocery stores, in fact one is from a huge drugstore chain. Let’s start there…

Drugstore Mayhem

Recently, I was at our local drugstore chain. While talking to the shift lead, a stuffed toy simply fell off of the shelf. (This happens a lot when I’m near, and knowing the signs – I asked…) I motioned to the toy and asked “Is this place haunted?” Carrie, the shift lead said: “You know – it is! Many times we’ll come into the store in the mornings – and several things will be on the floor. And we know it wasn’t like that when we left.” She went on to tell me her personal experiences several years earlier as a bar chain manager. “I ran a small chain of 5 bars out west for over 12 years. The owner and his wife swear that two of them are haunted by former customers. During closing late at night, He would hear male voices near a cluster of tables, never quite able to make them out. On more than one occasion he heard ‘Hey!'” There’s more “We had a lot of regulars, retirees who would come in early and wait for their other friends to stroll in. One older woman had her own mug, which we kept frosted for her. She would usually come in first, always with her deck of cards in case anyone wanted to play. She sat at the far end of the bar on her favorite stool. Well, after several years she passed away. Several weeks later, I took out her frosted mug and returned it to the dishwasher. Wouldn’t you know it, late night during closing I thought I seen a shadow out of my peripheral vision. But, I dismissed it and started counting down drawers.” In about an hour the owner came out and helped me with wiping down and moving chairs. He joined me behind the bar and then we heard the sound of cards shuffling. It was loud and clear. Cards shuffling at the end of the bar, where she sat. I looked at him, he looked at me. He said ‘I heard it.’ I put her mug back in the cooler and there it stayed.”

Carrie Has More Encounters

She went onto tell me about her only son. Many times after closing the bar, her son would jump into the bed of her pick-up truck to hitch a ride home with her after bar hopping on the weekends. So she wouldn’t be alarmed, he would bang on the sides of the bed so she would know he was there. This is important later… Tragically, her son was murdered. The wake was held at her home. In the family room was a table shrine, with flowers, photos and cards from the over 200 mourners who came to share in her loss. After everyone had left, Carrie went up to the table. She caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye, of his lanky shadow. She recognized him instantly because of his shaved head, it was a perfect silhouette. Several days later she was cooking, something her son loved doing with her and she was overwhelmed by his “scent.” She explained that mothers know that each child has a “scent.” She smelled his and called out to he husband “He’s here.” Her husband nodded in agreement. Several weeks later, Carrie leaving the bar late at night in her truck, heard loud banging. “This was clanking and pounding and banging from the back of my truck. I thought ‘He’s hitching a ride.’ Then I remembered he’s gone. This banging sounded like canned goods were smacking the sides of my truck. Since it was late, I waited until I pulled into a well lit parking lot. I carefully got out and peered into the bed. There was nothing. I think he wanted me to know ‘I’m here with you Mom.'”

Dollar Store Shenanigans

Becky

Once again, this time in a dollar store chain, a random paper towel pack literally flew off the shelf in front of me. So I asked Sherry the store manager. “Oh, yeah. Once I watched a framed picture wiggle up and over the shelf rail and fall to the floor! Two of us seen it. I would find dolls misplaced after hours on the floor. So I call her ‘Becky.’ If the girls clothes are tossed around in the morning I yell ‘Becky behave!’ ”

About two years ago, Sherry’s husband died unexpectedly. He had been ill, but Sherry and family were not prepared for his death. Months later while trying to lie down to sleep, she felt his depression on the bed next to her. She wasn’t afraid, she felt his hand touch hers. It comforted her. She drifted asleep. She went onto to tell about when her father died years prior. Her mom called and asked if she wanted any mementos. At the time, they lived out of state. So Sherry asked about her Dad’s class ring, and a few photos. A week later, she opened the envelope her mom had sent. It had several photos, a belt buckle, but the ring was missing. Sherry didn’t mind. When her mom called to ask if she received it, Sherry said she had to photos and buckle. After they hung up. Her mom called back ‘Did you get the ring?’ No ring. A year later, doing some spring cleaning, Sherry got the step ladder to clean the top of the curio cabinet. There was the ring. “No way could it have gotten up there. I needed a step ladder, not a stool to reach that. No one would ever get that high to put it there. I think Dad found a way to get it to me.”

More Chaos

At yet another dollar store location, I was behind the counter speaking to the manager. Above my head on a high shelf, dryer beads fell right in front of me, just missing my head. Before I could ask he shouted to anyone: “Did you see that! That just flew off the shelf!” He went on “I told her (district manager) this place is haunted! I was on speaker with her after closing when I heard all of these thuds from the back of the store. She (district manager) was watching the monitors (remotely viewing the CCTV) and said ‘I see it!’ She seen all of these cereal boxes just flying off of the shelves.” He went on “So many times items just in the aisles after I went and picked them up, crazy.”

Dollar Store Storm

One of my first encounters with flying products was at yet another dollar store location. This time, for no reason I could think of, a can of tuna fell at my feet. The first time this happened, it scared me and I ran up to the manager (who I was acquainted with) and said : “Oh hey is this store haunted?” Both her and her worker said : “Hell yes! We have it on camera!” She went onto say that each morning they would come in to open, it would be a huge strewn mess, even after putting out all products from truck day. Even if all U boats of products, nothing left in the backroom, all aisles were tidy the night before, it would be disarray. When the store finally installed security monitoring, which would tape for several hours and loop over – they caught it. ”When we came in to the wreck one morning, we went to the cameras. It took a while to find it, but we did. We all watched it, even our district manager. In the early morning hours all of the sudden, things just started flying off the shelves, like someone to a broom and swept them. I will not work here by myself at night, period. No one will!”

I hear you!