The grandpa, the grandson, and the holy ghost II

The paranormal.  I have always believed in ghosts myself, but although I am skeptical, certain events have transpired that force me to believe more strongly.

If you read the first part of my report, you know that my grandfather recently passed away.  I have come to tell you a little more of this story, and some extra-paranormal stuff that has been happening recently.

My grandfather was on a few medications when he died, mainly for breathing problems, etc.  He refused the pain medicine when we tried to give it to him, but he still was hallucinating due to the effects of the medicine.  

A few weeks before he died, he spoke of seeing pictures on the wall move.  He claimed that the picture of me hanging above his head actually TALKED to him.

The day before he died, he saw a clock by the bedside.  He was having an odd hallucination, as no one else he called in the room could see it.  He claimed that the clock read four four five, or four forty five.  He kept repeating the number all day long, trying to convince everyone the clock was really there.

The next day, in the morning, he saw the very SAME clock, only this time, it read FIVE forty five.  He kept trying and trying, but no one else could see it.  He developed death rattle symptoms in his lungs, and could barely breath the rest of the day.

That’s when his breathing STOPPED.  My grandma kept crying and insisting it would start up again, but to no avail.  My aunt and my grandma gathered around the bed crying for another ten minutes, as his heart still beat that long.  A staggering TEN MINUTES.  That’s a long time for the body to go without oxygen.  Then he died.  The REAL clock by his bedside… it read six forty five.  Time of death, six forty five.

As you can imagine, this startled my grandma and aunt, as they told my mom when they informed her of the news.

I was on a walk, when I got back, I heard the news.  He had passed away at six forty five.  The next day, I learned about the clock incident.

However, the morning after he died, my mom was awakened by strange voices.  She told me these voices were coming from WITHIN her bedroom.  She said they spoke of a name three times, all repeated louder and louder until she woke up… then they stopped.  It was the same name repeated, and she just ignored it until on the phone again later that night with my aunt.  My aunt told her the name of my grandpa’s nurse the day before he died.  It was the very same name.  The nurse that was sent to the house from hospice service was the name my mom heard that morning.  No one in the house was awake, and she only learned of the name when my aunt told her later in the day.

Yesterday, an event transpired that made me write this.  I was listening to my grandpas favorite song, when my mom told me to turn it off, because she couldn’t handle it.  She started crying, and we had to leave for Monday night choir rehearsal at my school.  She told me to come over to the mailbox.  She took me a few feet away, and I read a faint name on the side.  It appeared to say “Jed”, but upon closer inspection, the faded letter N was at the forefront.  This spelled out “Ned”.  This was my grandfathers nickname.  Edward.  Everyone called him Ned.  I nearly fainted from shock.  We looked at each other astounded, she told me she saw it a few days earlier, but thought she was just insane.  I saw it too that summer, but I didn’t stop to think about the actual LETTERS, I just assumed it was mold or moss.  When I approached the mailbox last night, I tried scratching at it, but it wouldn’t come off.  It wasn’t moss, it was embedded into the brick in black letters.  Not a chemical substance, it was part of the fucking brick.

These events have led me to believe that something strange is going on.  I don’t know if it’s paranormal, religious, or just sheer coincidence… but I have ruled out the latter.  

I have not over exaggerated any of these events.  No one in my town knows my grandfathers nickname, save me, my mom, and my dad.  Medicines don’t cause hallucinations that are THAT real, and my mom knows no one by that name except my grandpas nurse the day he died.

The father, the son, and the holy ghost…

The grandpa, the grandson, the holy ghost.

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