This happened about a year after my mother died.
Our neighborhood consists of five houses, and there is a church within 400 feet of my house. On this particular day everyone, but me was attending an after funeral dinner at the church. I spent most of this time in my backyard. After awhile I picked up the scent of perfume in the air. I figured one of the little old ladies at the church must have doused herself pretty good for the scent to carry that far.
When my wife came home I asked her who was it that was wearing so much perfume. She said she didn't notice anyone with too much perfume. I told her that I could smell it all the way into our backyard, and I knew that it was perfume because it was the same stuff my mother always used. She just looked at me and nothing more was said.
This may not be a ghost story, and it's pretty dumb, but I'm going to tell it anyway.
I have a stainless steel strainer that I use when I'm filling up the garden sprayer. It's kept in the basement, and is always in plain sight. I always know where it is. It went missing around May 2005, the same month my mother died. It couldn't be found anywhere.
My wife likes to have things that belonged to people she loved and cared about, and have passed away. I think it makes her feel closer to them. We have a lot of my mothers things, but the one thing she wanted was her sugar bowl. She puts these things to use rather than putting them away.
One day I was putting my two spoons of sugar into a cup of coffee, and as a joke I said out loud to an empty house "I'm using your sugar bowl. I hope you don't mind."
Unexpectedly, in my mind's eye I could see a living image of my mother and my dad was with her. She appeared to be in her twenties and he in his thirties. They were both smiling. I stood there dumbstruck for a few seconds. I wish I could have thought of something more profound to say, but what I said was "Do either of you know where I could find my strainer ?" The image faded away and was replaced by an image of the strainer and its location. My next question was "how in he!! did it get in the attic ?". In the time it took to walk upstairs and open the attic door I had it in my hand. I still don't know how it got there.
(See?, I told you it was dumb)
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Topic: Ghoststories (Read 2143 times)
