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Not the actual house we lived in but you get the idea
In last week’s Monday Listicle, Husbands and Homes, I mentioned that the house we used to live in was haunted. Several people left comments and seemed interested in hearing more about it so below is the story of the house and some of the things I experiences there. I’ve split in into parts only because I felt like it was too long for a single post. Hope you enjoy! I’m just very, very happy we don’t live there anymore.
From a very young age, I’ve felt there was something more when we die.
I sat on the edge of her bed when my mother passed away. I watched her light, her spirit lift away. Watched as her body become nothing more than an empty shell that was no longer “her” but something like an outer suit she wore, now empty and unused.
Later, I would learn the scientific theory that energy cannot be destroyed. And that many believe our spirit, our “light” or whatever word we use to describe the indescribable thing that makes us – us, is in fact – energy.
This made perfect sense to me as I’d witnessed for myself, the act of an energy leaving a body. Not as if a light had been switched off, more of a transition from here to – I don’t know where but I know what I felt, what I saw and what I believe.
I don’t know if this in some way made me more sensitive or accessible to the spirits that were in our old house or if they were and had just been acting out for years, waiting and wanting to be heard or noticed or felt.
The house was the first I’d ever lived in that was mine (ours really, purchased with my then fiance – present husband). I was so excited to finally be out of a tiny apartment and in to this big house, far bigger than we needed but I knew we would not find anything else close to the size in our price range.
Of course, looking back I can see several red flags that should have screamed “This is not the house for you!” but at the time, I was just too burned out on bad apartment experiences and cramped living.