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Cody W, NY, USA
March 2005

I was in the seventh grade when my grandfather, whom we all referred to as "Pappa", died. It was early September of '99 when he complained of being very ill, throwing up violently. He was taken to the hospital, where he died suddenly of an aneurysm.

I was very close to my grandfather, so when he died at the age of 65 with no warning, I was devastated. I woke up that morning feeling very odd, very sick... ten minutes later I was told the bad news.

It was the morning of the funeral that things started to happen. My grandmother was running around the house like a mad woman trying to get things ready for the gathering afterwards. With her were my mother and stepfather, as well as a few uncles and aunts. She had the dishwasher running, when, unexpectedly, it came unlatched and opened, spilling hot water everywhere. It hadn't ever done that before, and hasn't since.

A few weeks after the funeral, my grandmother had come home from work and went into the upstairs bathroom. She was surprised to see that the waste basket had been pulled out and was sitting next to the toilet, with toenail clippings scattered about. My grandfather would always sit on the toilet lid, pull the wastebasket next to him, and clip his toenails. The discovery perplexed my grandmother.

Her electric garage door stopped working almost immediately after the funeral. My stepfather, being a contractor and semi-electrician, spent hours trying to figure out what could be wrong with it. It wasn't until he gave up that he noticed that there was a power switch hidden above a shelf that sat up high on a wall. Once he flicked the switch, the door worked again. No one, including my grandmother, knew about that switch. It was also very unlikely that anyone could have accidently hit it, as it was so hidden and up so high.

My mother took the house from my grandmother once she decided it was too big for her needs, so now we currently reside in the house. On a few occasions times, my little sister claims to have heard the voice of our beloved grandfather, particularly in one hallway that none of us like to be in.

Now, at seventeen years of age, I sometimes experience an uneasy feeling, as if someone's looking over my shoulder at certain times. It gets more comforting, however, when I think about it just being my Pappa, making sure we're all safe and sound.

Cody W, NY, USA
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