When I was 13, we went to visit family on their farm. They lived in a town dominated by farms and the people were so nice. As we were in town the Saturday, my mother bumped into her eldest sister, who she had not seen for years. The reunion was a shock for them, but they were happy to see each other nonetheless. My aunt told us that they were having a party for her son at the army barracks, as he was going out of country with the army. We ended up going to the party. The barracks were mostly empty, lately, in SA, the army isn't such a big thing anymore.
The barracks had a small entertainment area with a bar and a braai area and a swimming pool. This was secluded from the actual facilities and rooms where the soldiers resided. Being typical kids, my cousin, my sister and I set off to explore the area. We knew we should not be snooping around, and ended up in a passageway we were not supposed to be in. We actually tried to sneak past a door and found a soldier in his room. We were sure we were in trouble, then my cousin piped up and said "we're lost, where are the bathrooms around here?" The soldier good-naturedly humoured the three silly girls and directed us to the nearest bathroom. We continued our snooping however.
We had gone down many a passageway, then somehow ended up in the mess hall. It was empty at this point. Then we heard noises coming from the kitchen. It sounded as if the Cook was having a fight with the pots and pans in the kitchen. There was banging, and things falling to the floor, being kicked or thrown so they hit the walls. We creeped up to the swinging doors leading into the kitchen, trying to catch a peek at this seemingly aggravated cook. My cousin pulled the door open just a crack, I tried to peek over her shoulder. My sister was afraid we would get into very big trouble, so she stuck to the back. Looking into the kitchen, the noises never stopped, but there was no one there. No objects moving and, more importantly, no Cook. I freaked out, I jumped up and grabbed my sister by her hand and started running. My cousin caught up with us within a few paces and we ran until we found the front foyer and the restrooms located there.
My cousin actually said she wanted to get her brother and go back, I refused. We went back to the party and pulled our cousin, call him "K" aside. We asked him if he believed in ghosts. He laughed at us and asked; "Did you meet the cook?" He told us that they had had a cook who had committed suicide in the kitchen years before. A lot of the guys had heard noises coming from the kitchen, but never saw anyone there. Of course, it makes sense that this could have been an adult's idea of a joke, scaring girls with made up stories.
For half of my life I have wondered if we actually had witnessed paranormal activity, or just had very vivid imaginations. But we all heard the noises, and neither my cousin nor myself saw anyone, or anything who could be causing them.
I totally agree with you. Charlie, for one, found peace after a life of depression when he passed away. He committed suicide. With him, he came back because of me, and my family. He is now, they way I knew him before the depression hit. He is mischievous and happy, he gets his down moments, but not as bad as he was before he died.
I am convinced that some people just don't find the rest they saught when they commit suicide, and then are forced into the situation where they were so unhappy before they died.