This is an actual, first-hand experience.
In 1993, one of my younger brothers, Greg, passed away from complications brought on by disease. He was 30. He was also very athletic and had a great love for music. One of his favorite musical groups was Styx. This will be important later in the story.
Six months prior to his death, Greg moved home and took up residence in the back bedroom of my parents’ 3-bedroom house. Mom and Dad did what parents do best: They took care of him and made his last days very comfortable. The rest of the family did what we could as well. Two other adult brothers also lived with my parents at the time. And because my wife, kids and I had an apartment only a half-mile away we were able to see him nearly every day.
Almost immediately following his death, my mom began to relate stories of weird occurrences around the house. Unaccounted for noises were heard or shadows were seen. My brothers swore that on several occasions they had gone into the back bedroom and noticed that some of Greg’s personal belongings had been moved. Within a week neither one of the brothers who lived at home would sleep in that bedroom, preferring instead to share a room. I laughed and poked fun at them, at the same time reassuring my parents that Greg was just letting us know he was OK.
That same week, my family and I returned home to our apartment and were discussing dinner options while the kids put away their school things. Not more than 5 minutes had passed when our living room TV turned on. My wife and I were shocked because that was an old, non-remote control type TV. You had to physically pull the knob out towards you to power up. I checked the knob and it was pushed in. I actually had to unplug it to turn it off. This didn't happen again. "Greg says hello," I joked with my wife.
We agreed not to share this story with the kids when they returned to the living room. I went to my parents’ home a day or two later to visit. It was around 9 AM. I knocked on the door and got no answer. Checking, I found the door unlocked and went in. "Mom," I called, knowing that dad wasn’t home at that time. No answer. I called for my brothers. Nothing. So I checked the kitchen and found it empty. I walked towards the hallway, expecting that mom was either in a bedroom or the bathroom. As I approached the hallway, I heard loud music coming from back bedroom and headed towards it. I knocked on the door as I turned the knob, assuming one of my brothers was playing the stereo and couldn’t hear me. I opened the door and stepped in, only to find the bedroom was empty and there was no music playing. Confused, I checked the closet and found no one there. A quick check under the bed confirmed that I was alone. Then I noticed the windows were closed. The sound couldn’t have come from outside. It suddenly dawned on me that the music I heard was Styx. I quickly went to check the bathroom and found it empty. So I checked the other 2 bedrooms. Both empty as well. By this time I was starting to worry. I went through the kitchen and out the back door. "Mom," I called again. She emerged from the garage as she answered, carrying laundry. We walked inside together. I asked if she was listening to the radio out in the garage. She wasn’t. Did she hear any music, I queried?. No. Was anyone else home? No again. That’s when I realized I must’ve just had a visitation from Greg. So I told her of my experiences at home and just then. "Dad said the same thing yesterday," she said, matter-of-factly. "The boys have been complaining about Greg playing his music all week. That’s why they won’t stay in that bedroom anymore." I sat there, dumbfounded. "Greg says hello, I guess," was all I could think to say.