Anecdote, Family, Home, I Wasn't Worried, Thoughts, You're Fine

Little Black Book – a ghost story

I realized I’ve never really discussed the idea of ghosts on my blog. What has prompted this inspiration is an article I asked Tierney to send to me because it was spooking her out so I thought, “Hey Jess, let’s not sleep tonight.” You can find the article here: Read at your own risk.

So now, I’m a Nervous Nelly and the only thing I can do to calm myself down is doing what I’m doing now: blogging and joking around. *insert nervous laugh*


I love ghost stories. That doesn’t necessarily mean I believe in them, but I’m not entirely skeptical either. I know weird and unexplainable things happen. I’ve known plenty of people who have strange stories to tell, including myself. Like this one time, the stereo in the basement of my house turned on by itself in the middle of the night. The damn thing woke everyone up. We never used that stereo, so there was no set alarm either. And no, I was not the first person to walk into my dark, creepy basement to find the source of the noise. I’m smarter than that. Or that other time in college when I went to go wash my face and brush my teeth before bed and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl walk in and head for the stalls. After I was done brushing my teeth, I realized how silent the bathroom was, and when I went to check the stalls, nobody was in there except for me. I ran out and hid under my blankets.

But the first time I started to kind of sort of believe these things was after my dad passed away. Several strange and possibly coincidental things happened after his death, but that is for you to decide.

My dad died only a few months after my college graduation. As soon as I was in the “real world” he informed me that he wanted to send a hundred dollars every month. I told him it wasn’t necessary but he insisted. He said, “I don’t want you to ever be without.” He sent me $100 for July and August, and then he died in September. A day or two after he passed, I flew down to Texas to help my mom with some things around the house. We had an emotional morning after picking up his belongings at the hospital, and then the funeral home allowing me to view the body for a few seconds before cremating him later that week, so my mother and I decided to take a long nap. I don’t know how long we were both asleep for, but I eventually woke up and felt anxious. I slipped out of bed, tip toed over our German Shepherd, and sat in the kitchen for a few minutes in silence. My dad’s art studio was all the way down the hallway with the door closed and I felt compelled to go inside and look around. It wasn’t just out of curiosity. It was more of a, “I have to do it now!” kind of feeling.

I began going through his things. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for but I kept digging through the drawers and closets, hoping to find something. He had a tiny book collection on his shelf and I noticed there was a little black book tucked away and it looked like a journal. I pulled it out and opened the first page. It was dated two weeks before he died and he wrote one sentence, “I don’t remember much of my life or where it went, so this is going to be tough to write.” That is all.

I fanned through the pages hoping to find more and then a hundred dollar bill fell onto my lap. After I showed my mom, we tore apart the rest of the house, wondering if he hid any other hundred dollar bills but we found nothing. Just the single bill inside his blank journal. Now, some of you might think that it was just a coincidence. However, what if I hadn’t gone through his things and found the little black book? There really wasn’t anything special about it. It was a small, blank book tucked in between about a dozen books by Stephen King and a few of my Sarah Dessen novels I enjoyed when I was younger. The little black book could have easily been thrown away along with some of his other belongings before my mom packed up the house and moved. Finding that hundred dollar bill was like finding a needle in a haystack —> not an original analogy but whatever.

Flash forward a few weeks and my mom was telling me about the weird and unexplainable things.

Grief messes with you. You start noticing things you never noticed before, and then you feel guilty for not noticing them when you should have. My mom walked by the refrigerator and found a note that said, “I love you!” and when she turned it over, it read, “Just because.” She walked outside one day and stumbled across the row of cement blocks. The day my dad passed away, he was moving them around the yard in the heat, which could be an easy explanation for his heart attack. One of the cement blocks had their initials written on it with a heart. These moments are not considered weird, but instead are happy reminders of the person they were before they are gone. I think this happens with every person once they have died. It’s like that song from The Band Perry when they say, “Funny when you’re dead and people start listening.” But one day, my mom woke up from a nap because it felt like someone pushed her. She felt the hand shove her awake and she looked up and found my dad standing there staring at her. She told me this story and a part of me thought, “She’s grieving. This is natural.” And then another part of me was jealous. Other than the mysterious hundred dollar bill, I hadn’t experienced anything except a number of sleepless nights.

My mom told me a few other stories like that one and I just nodded my head silently. For weeks, I wanted something to happen whether it was my grief talking or something real. I know it was just a desperate plea to see him one last time, and I couldn’t understand why my mom could see him and I couldn’t.

And then one fine evening I had a very strange dream. I was standing across the street from my old house in New Hampshire. Everything was set up exactly as I remembered. From across the street, I could see my dad pacing back and forth in the window of my house. I wasn’t trying to get his attention, but I was just watching him. He noticed me from the big window and waved vigorously with a huge smile on his face. And then I woke up.

Weird? Maybe. Coincidence? Possibly. But I’d rather just keep it as a way of him saying, “hello”.


23 thoughts on “Little Black Book – a ghost story

  1. In the years following my dad’s death, I would dream of him fairly regularly. These days, I still dream of him, but the instances are fewer and farther apart. And they’re always bittersweet. In those dreams, I’m always so excited to see him and even, when it’s a really good one, talk to him. But then I wake up and it’s like having to say good-bye all over again.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I tend to think there’s a lot about this world that we don’t understand. People with faith will explain an experience one way – others a different way. I’ve always kind of sat on the fence. My aunt renovated her parents house when they died, and all sorts of strange things happened – even the workmen started to get spooked.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I agree with you on that one! I like hearing the stories because there’s something exciting and scary about them, so I always view it as a possibility while others don’t, and that’s fine 🙂


  3. Auntie Dy says:

    I don’t think I ever told you , when I was about 7 I moved into your mothers old bedroom . It was my grandmother’s room ( nanas mom) she died before I was born . She used to come visit me at night and hold my hand , stoke my hair and tell me that she would always be watching over me . I had no idea who she was , until we were watching a family slide show . When I saw her face I told my mom all about her . I think mom nearly fainted . Lol

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I only had one dream about my sister after she died. She looked like she did in high school and I asked her what heaven was like. She said it was “glorious”. I often feel like that was an actual conversation we had and not a dream. Something weird also happened after she died, much like your stereo story. We were all in the house, I think it was the day of her funeral. We’re sitting around talking about her and all the sudden her Sony Walkman turns on and music starts blaring out of the headset. It was crazy. I like to think she was having some fun with us.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yeah it’s definitely a possibility that they slip into our dreams because we thought about them that day, or remembered a conversation we had. But it’s nice when it happens. But that Walkman situation is definitely odd haha my dad used to tell my mom he would haunt her when he passed and it looks like he kept his promise.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I hear these paranormal stories all the time and I really want to believe them. However, since nothing has ever personally happened to me, I am always a little skeptical. I can’t help but think that there’s some sort of explanation for them. But I know of stories that have happened to people I’m close to that have no normal explanation.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I made it through number one and then closed the page on that link you shared. I like scary things but mid-afternoon isn’t the best time for them. I can’t just fall asleep afterwards lol. Maybe I’ll circle back later.
    That’s pretty crazy about the $100 bill. You were definitely lead to it as some sort of message that even though he was gone, he still wanted to make sure you were okay.

    Liked by 1 person

    • What are you talking about? Mid-afternoon is the perfect time to read this haha the sun’s out. Nothing bad happens when the sun is out, right? With the exception of the movie Paranormal Activity.
      And yeah, the $100 bill certainly freaked me out. I stood in the room staring at it for probably 20 minutes trying to wrap my brain around it. But it was definitely a nice and reassuring feeling.

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I like this kind of ghost story, you were obviously supposed to find that $100!
    I’ve not had anything really spooky happen but all the clocks stopped in my grandmothers house at the time she passed away also my little cousin was about 3 years old when she died and she kept asking why Grandma hadn’t gone to heaven? We were all confused telling her she had gone and then she said ‘no she’s in my toy room’ eeeek!!

    Liked by 2 people

  8. I am heartbroken that you lost your father. Losing my parents is something I joke about with them constantly, because I don’t want to face the truth of the matter: it’s going to happen. I’m the youngest in my family, so my parents are much older than all of my other friends’ parents. Everyday you wake up and live without him, you’re a hero in my eyes – don’t you ever forget that. Even though it isn’t fresh, I am so incredibly sorry for you loss. I’d like to think the waving dream was him. xoxo.

    Liked by 1 person

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