When Ghosts Speak - Mary Ann Winkowski [31]
Why Spirits Stay
Over the years, I’ve heard as many reasons for staying earthbound as there are individuals, but generally I have found that whatever people were like when they were alive, so they are when they’re dead—maybe even more so. Responsible people stay because they think they can help; control freaks stay because they want everything to be just so, even after they’re gone; folks with big egos stay because they assume others will miss them too much; people with guilty consciences stay because they are afraid of judgment or punishment; social butterflies stay because they love being the guest of honor at their own funerals, and by the time they realize that all the services are over and everyone who gathered to talk about them has begun to return to daily life, their Light has faded and gone and they’re stuck. Snoops, spies, and generally nosy people stick around for the thrill of unlimited access—they can go anywhere, hear and see anything—it’s irresistible. The truth is that there is no good reason to remain earthbound. And part of my job is to explain this to the spirits I encounter.
I remember one little girl spirit whom I met when a mother asked me to come and clear their house of a ghost intimidating her four-year-old daughter. I learned that Lana, a formerly friendly and outgoing child, had become increasingly withdrawn and secretive, spending hours in her playroom with her “best friend,” Suzy.
At first Lana’s mother, Donna, had assumed that Suzy was an imaginary friend, a figment of her young daughter’s lively imagination. But the more Lana told her mother about Suzy— how she had followed Lana and her babysitter home from the playground; how she told Lana not to let her mother or grandparents into the playroom; and finally, and most disturbingly, how she’d told Lana that if anyone ever found out about her, she would burn the house down—the more worried Donna became.
When Lana began to come down with cold after cold, each more severe than the last, and continued to grow more withdrawn and anxious—all symptoms of sharing a home with an earthbound spirit—her mother knew she had to take action. That was when she called me.
When I arrived at their house, I immediately saw Suzy sulking on the stairs. “She’s here,” I confirmed for the worried parents.
Suzy looked to be about seven or eight. She had dark hair that fell in ringlets around her chubby face. Her fists were clenched against her sides, and she glared at me from under thick eyebrows. I could tell from her attitude that she was a bit of a bully. But I’ve raised two children and been a foster parent to many others, and I understand kids almost as well as I understand ghosts.
It didn’t take me long to find out that Suzy had died in a house fire in the late 1940s. I wondered why she hadn’t gone into the Light.
“Did your parents die in the fire, too?” I asked.
Suzy nodded.
“And did they go into the white Light? Could you see them?”
Suzy nodded again.
“Could you see anyone else?” I prodded.
“My grandma,” she finally said.
“Wouldn’t you like to see your mother and father again?” I asked gently.
To my surprise, Suzy frowned, stuck out her lower lip, and vigorously shook her head no.
I have learned that when children don’t want to go into the Light, I must tread carefully. They may have seen an adult there of whom they are frightened—an alcoholic mother, an abusive father, a nasty grandparent. Fear can keep them from crossing over.
“What about your grandma?” I asked.
Suzy’s face softened. “I do want to see Grandma,” she whispered.
“But not Mom and Dad?” I persisted.
Suzy was silent for a few minutes. I waited. Finally she spoke. “They’re mad at me,” she said in a small voice. “If I go to them, I’m going to be in trouble.”
I suddenly felt sorry for her. “Why do you think you