First, I want to say I've spent the past week reading people's stories and I feel like I finally can be open and tell others about my experiences. This one is more intimate to me. I just want everyone to know that I always do everything I can to make sure that there is nothing naturally occurring to cause these things to happen.
So for starters, my grandmother knew absolutely nothing about her heritage, or my grandfather's heritage. So in an attempt to learn about it, my grandmother offered to pay for a few years to have me go on ancestry and start looking up family. My grandma's side of the family wasn't horribly hard to figure out, but I had to do a LOT of research on and off of ancestry to start to pull family members. My grandfather's side of the family has a connection to the Kelloggs. It was that side of the family that I had been struggling with, because what little information my grandmother knew, didn't give leads. So I got really deep into looking for my many great grandmother. I ended up finding out through a book written about a nearby town that the first name my grandmother had was actually her middle name.
Then I went to the cemetery, as I did with most of the family members that I found that lived nearby, and... I just could not find her head stone. Turned out, she didn't have a headstone. So then, I ended up starting on a HUGE endeavor to find the plot where she was buried, and put a marker there. (Granted, I still have not managed to find the plot. I can't even get a hold of the caretaker of the cemetery. Grrr.)
The ghost part of this story occurred a few days after my mother, sister and I had gone to the cemetery to find her plot. I was laying in bed and woke up to a very, VERY vivid image of a young woman, see-through, at the end of my bed sitting next to my feet. She smiled at me and stood up, then was gone. It's not a super significant thing, because it was a quick over-and-done, but I got the sense that it was my many times great grandmother. She was dressed in 1800s clothing, which was the right era. (I'm a history buff.)
I got the sense from the encounter, despite it being very brief, that it was her way of thanking me for caring about her. Her husband had remarried after she had passed away and never bothered to get her a headstone. I think that myself, my mom and my older sister are actually the first family members to put in an effort to actually find where she's buried and have a marker put in. I honestly felt at peace with her presence. I've had other paranormal experiences that left me shaken, but... This woman felt warm and I almost think she's my guardian angel now.
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Now... I'm going to explain the painting. I paint. Being an artist is sort of my forte. For a good portion of 2016, I was living in my grandmother's house taking care of her while she battled ovarian cancer. I had painted her a picture of a tree with the cancer ribbon on it, and had the word Hope written in the ribbon. It wasn't/isn't a spectacular painting by any means, but I had made it specifically to put in her room to get her to know that there was hope. (My grandfather died in 2010. So she was already incredibly depressed.)
My grandmother passed away in April 2017 due to complications from the chemotherapy. I lived in her house and took care of her animals and the property until close to October of 2017. At this point, the painting of the tree and ribbon was now hanging in her house over the small stairway from the ground floor to the second floor.
For her funeral, my mom's cousins came up from Florida, as they were close to my grams. Two of the three cousins stayed in my grandmother's bedroom. (My grandmother passed at the hospital.) and my other cousin stayed in the guest/my room. I was sleeping on an air mattress in the living room.
My family is a little different with grieving. We tend to reminisce and talk more about the fun and happy times and make jokes rather than dwell on what could cause us serious pain. My cousins and I were over at my brother's apartment, in the back yard around a huge bon fire just talking about my grandma and the things she used to do - we said something things that would probably have made her blushed, knowing we had spoken about it. She would have thrown the book at us for the things we were discussing and laughing about.
When my cousins and I got back to the house, we walked in and the painting I had done, was laying in the middle of the kitchen about 6+ feet from the staircase. I have to say, the cats could not have knocked it down, nor did it just fall rationally, because the nail I had hung it on was still firmly in the wall, at a steep angle. (In fact, a few months later, when we were cleaning the house out, I had to fight to get the nail out of the wall.) My cousins all told me goodnight and ran to their respective rooms, leaving me alone in the kitchen with the painting and no explanation of what happened. I hung it back up, and since then it never happened again. On this note, I'm fairly sure that was my grandma yelling at us for talking about her in a manner that was unbecoming. The painting is actually hanging on my bedroom wall now, and has not moved or fallen down even once since then. It was kind of comforting to me that my grandmother made it clear she could hear us and was yelling at us. Because the woman was a spitfire and it's good to know nothing changed after she passed.
These two stories were the most positive paranormal stories to happen to me. I will likely be posting again about some of the stranger/darker things that have happened to me. I just wanted to share these experiences with a community that could understand and give insight, if they wanted. Thanks so much!
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