Once my parents died, I had no qualms about going to the cemetery. My folks were there, so it had to be a safe, peaceful place. Never expected anything sinister, or actually thought I would experience anything resembling a haunting or see any ghosts. It was safe as could be. Right?? That is what I used to think anyways.
After my mom died, I would often go and sit on her grave and talk with her and cry. Pathetic, I know but necessary at the time. I felt closer to her somehow. Finally my visits became less frequent. Christmas was always a special holiday for my mom. She loved to decorate every room of the house and loved the lights. She loved everything about Christmas.
It was because of this that my Dad bought her a small Christmas tree and we made a tradition of going to the cemetery every Christmas eve night to illuminate the lights, give her flowers, and wish her a Merry Christmas. It was an artificial tree outfitted with battery operated lights and my Dad figured out a way to make it work. The challenge was having the tree lit up for most of the night. Unfortunately the cold always played havoc on the batteries and usually by the time my family and I were heading home from Christmas eve festivities at my dad’s house, the lights were out. We would go into the pitch black cemetery and pick up the tree and take it home.
In 2004, my dad joined my mom in heaven and my husband and I decided to continue the tradition with a new tree. I had found a small fiber optic tree for a reasonable price and decided to buy it for my parents for Christmas. Much like every other Christmas we continued to visit the cemetery on the night before lighting the tree. The only problem that arose was that we no longer had any holiday parties on Christmas eve. Since we didn’t want to leave the tree at the cemetery for fear someone would steal it, we always went and brought it back home before bedtime.
One year it was snowing, and as I pulled up and parked I noticed that the tree was still lit. My daughter and I waded out into the snow to my parent’s grave. As we approached the tree began to blink and the lights were extinguished. I was just about to remark that it was nice the lights lasted for as long as they did when suddenly the tree lit up the night once again! My daughter and I exchanged glances and I quickly unplugged the tree plunging us into darkness again. Before I could pick the tree up again, the lights flickered one final time. Ok, now that freaked me out a little.
As I grabbed the tree and we told my parents how much we loved them and wished them a Merry Christmas, we heard voices say “Merry Christmas”. My daughter and I looked at each other and said “ Did you hear that?” at the same time and then simultaneously hauled a$$ for the car slipping and sliding in our mad dash to get the hell out of there! It was as effective as someone screaming to "Get out!" We moved so fast we were theoretically out the door, down the street, not letting the door hit us in the a$$ on the way out. We threw the tree in the back, jumped in the car, and sped out of there like the hounds of hell were after us. I don’t know what we heard that night, but I can tell you it scared the be Je$u$ right out of both of us!!
Since that Christmas eve, only one thing has changed. We still visit the graveyard on Christmas eve night, but now instead of going back and getting the tree later that night…we leave it till AFTER Christmas. Do I think there are spirits that haunt the graveyard at night??? That would be a yes!! Much like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz, I do believe in spooks!! Until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.
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