I mentioned in my introduction that my family and I experienced a "haunting" in 2010-2011. We moved into a big old farmhouse that was charming and quirky and were very excited to spread out and just live. I love anything old that has a sense of history to it and it really seemed like a dream come true, but I soon considered it to be a nightmare instead. It wasn't until after I started a blog about my experiences that I heard similar stories of other families who had lived here and considered the home to be haunted as well. We probably wouldn't have even considered moving here had we known, but nevertheless we did and it has at least given us an interesting story to share!
I won't go through the entire story (the blog link is here if you want to read it as it unfolded & know all of the details: www.sinkinthehall.blogspot.com), but let's just say that what started out fairly calm soon escalated into a very fearful situation for me. At first we mainly had small events that we could explain away easily like static rushes in the air, the sound of footsteps upstairs when we were all downstairs together, sounds of music that we couldn't find the source of, and little things like that. After awhile of that, more concrete and more ominous feeling things began. One main event that really stands out to me is one of the few occurrences that my husband ever acknowledged... I was lying in bed with my husband and our sons (they loved to "camp" in our king size bed) when my husband's pillow was pulled out from underneath his head and pushed down over my face. It felt threatening and less playful and impossible to explain away. The boys were asleep and unaware of what was going on, but it became quite clear that something or someone was trying to get our attention!
One day I was drying my hair and texting a friend. I set down the phone in mid-text to work with a round brush for a minute, and when I picked my phone up to resume my text, the word "ARGO" was typed across the screen in all capital letters repeatedly. I didn't know what ARGO meant, but when I erased it and tried to tell my friend what had just happened to me, the auto correct didn't recognize the word at all. I began to Google the word to no real avail, I found a construction company up north with that name though and realized that ARGO was a last name.
Not long after that incident I started the blog. It picked up steam on Facebook and I had thousands of readers who jokingly referred to themselves as "Sinkers." They all followed my journey day by day with me, and soon a lead on what "ARGO" was came to me by way of my inbox on Facebook. "ARGO" was a last name and a family with that last name had lived here in the 1990s! I was stunned! I had concrete evidence and leads to follow. I found his daughters on FB and began talking with them about him. It turns out that he had loved this house and that he had died in a tragic car accident when he was 26. The simple fact that he lived here when he passed led me to believe that our ghost was actually Lee Thomas, his daughters and their mother's last name was Argo. Had he said "Lee" or "Thomas," my search wouldn't have lead anywhere-- they're just too common-- instead he typed an unusual name that would link me to his family! I saw his picture and he was very familiar to me... I showed it to my sons and they felt the same way. It was obvious that something real was going on!
At that time I considered Lee Thomas (nickname around here is still Argo of course) to be a ghost or lost spirit, but now in light of my spiritual awakening, I don't know how I would define him or the entire experience at all. At the time it really got to me and I was very afraid and fearful. We had paranormal investigating team out and they talked of portals and ley lines and used gadget to confirm something that I already knew... That we were living in a haunted house. To make a long story short(er), his daughter and ex-wife came here to try and contact him. They held my phone in the air hoping that he would type on the touch screen again, but he didn't. I was getting a lot of negative feedback from people who were close to me about the blog and many of them were telling me that only Satan could be the cause of this, and so I felt it was best to stop writing about my experiences. Although I don't believe now that Satan or Demons were involved, I didn't want a cloud like that interpretation of our experience to surround myself or my family. Looking back on that whole timeframe instead of being afraid and in fear as I was back then, I am almost thankful for it. I consider it a blessing to have been able to help a family who suddenly lost their father to reconnect with the memory of him and take steps toward finding closure. I am thankful to have had concrete proof that spirits reach out to us. I don't really think he was a ghost of a lost spirit, I think he was just reaching across the veil to give his family peace. Maybe he knew that I would be able to get to them. Maybe that's why he chose my phone to type in... Regardless, my "haunting" really started me thinking. I feel like it pointed me in the direction of awakening, and for that I am truly thankful!
Yes, things here still go bump in the night, but in a house that is over 150 years old I think it only makes sense that energy would linger. The less I worry about it and the less I focus on it, the less power it has over me. I am not afraid anymore, and that is truly a giant leap from where I was this time three years ago. I am going to post an exert from one of my favorite and most poignant blog posts from "Sink in the Hall" below, and I hope that you've enjoyed my overview of my brush with spirit. It has certainly shaped me in ways that I am still realizing now...
Friday, January 7th, 2011
Isn't it interesting to think about the past? Tonight I am thinking about the history of this house in particular... How many people have lived in this house since it was built over a hundred years ago? How many Christmases scattered packages and bows around the same thin wooden planked floors that we walk on now? How many babies were born here? How many people took their last breath here? How many Birthdays were celebrated inside these walls? How many tears were shed? How many furrowed brows pondered where the next meal would come from during the great depression that we so often forget? How many feet paced back & forth, wondering how long their daughter would be outside on the porch with her latest beaux? How many men on one knee proposed here? How many soldiers spent sleepless nights overseas longing to be at home in this house? How many little feet took their first steps here? Just thinking of the rich past that has filled this house sends chills down my spine. I am almost honored to join in & make my own memories here. When I look at it from this perspective, it isn't scary at all. Of course these people left their mark or even don't want to leave! Of course pieces of their presence lingers on.
Now you see my predicament... I am hanging in the balance between fear, respect, feeling crazy, having definite proof that won't allow me to pass it off as "nothing," & protecting my family. We didn't tell the boys about this for a long time. We ignored it & went along with our lives, but after awhile they started witnessing things on their own. Although their videos were amusing, they are real little boys with real ideas that are being formed. Will they look back on their childhood & remember being haunted? Will they tell their own children about the fear that they felt? Will this cloud the happy memories that we strive so hard to help them form? Again, I hang in the balance. Soon, hopefully very soon, I will have some answers to these questions that I am stuck with. I want to find peace-- even if it means living with a friendly (keyword FRIENDLY) ghost. I want to stop focusing on the fear & start stock piling my own happy "past" to add into the decades & decades of pasts that permeate the very walls around me.
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