Colorado Ghost Stories. Antonio Boone's Garcez

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СКАЧАТЬ hardest. He wept a little and then told us that he believed my sister, because he had also seen my brother’s spirit standing a short distance away from where he was working, building a wall behind the house. Something caused my father to look in the direction of the yard, and there he spotted his son’s spirit, standing and looking straight at my father.

      “Harold didn’t say anything, he just stood in place,” father told us. Father asked him, “Son, is that you, is it you son?” Then, my brother’s image slowly faded away. The only ones in our family who didn’t get a visit from my brother were my mother and me. That would change a few years later, when I was in my twenties and was about to give birth to my only child, a daughter.

      It was a difficult birth, and as soon as my daughter was born, I passed out from all the loss of blood and stress. It took me a long time to recover, but after I did, a few days later I again landed back in bed with a terrible series of headaches. These headaches were the worst you could ever imagine. Day after day I’d suffer with migraines. They were terrible.

      During one of theses headaches, I was in so much pain that I remember crying out, “Lord, I can’t take this any longer, take me with you!” After having said this, I remember laying on my right side in bed, staring with tear-filled eyes, at my infant daughter. Just then, I first sensed the presence, hearing the footsteps of someone walking in the room. I turned my eyes to look at the door and I saw my brother slowly walking towards me! I was overcome, not with fear, but with joy. Even though I was unable to move, even a finger, I knew my brother was in the room with me.

      Strangely, as soon as he reached my bed, he held out his hand and placed it on my forehead. At first I felt coldness, then immediate warmth spread from my head to my shoulders. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you Harold, my dear brother, thank you.” The terrible headache pain disappeared. I remember falling asleep and waking up when my husband came into the room and sat on the bed and called my name. Since that day, I haven’t ever had another headache episode. I really haven’t, the headaches have never returned.

      As my daughter grew, I remember, at the age of six or seven that she once began talking and playing with an imaginary play- mate she named, “Uncle man.” Because she was so young and precocious I didn’t think much of this, and I didn’t question her regarding her playmate, until she reached her teen years, when she brought up the subject of her imaginary playmate once again.

      She mentioned to me if I remembered the playmate she had had when she was younger, and I answered, “Yes, I do remember you telling me once or twice about him.” She answered, “Well Mother, he told me he was your brother and that he was always going to be your brother.” I answered, “Do you mean to say that you were talking with your Uncle Harold?” “Yes, yes Mother, that’s who he was. It was Uncle Harold.”

      My immediate response was to not believe my daughter, but she was now old enough to know right from wrong, and she was very serious about this. I looked her straight in her eyes and asked, “You are not lying to me you actually were talking with my brother?” “Yes, yes I was, but somehow I knew, even as a little girl that I would have gotten into trouble if I were to keep bringing him up time after time. Anyway, he didn’t visit me very often, just maybe two or three times total.”

      That conversation with my daughter took place many years ago, and in 1976, my daughter died of breast cancer. She was my only child. Before her death, during my prayers, I asked my brother’s spirit to come and take my daughter, his niece’s soul, with him to Heaven. My daughter died a peaceful death, and I would tell you more about this, but what happened was very personal and beautiful. I will keep this as my own secret, between my daughter and me. My husband died eight years later in 1984.

      Because of all the examples of love and the connection that I’ve seen in my life with my parents, my family and on a personal level, I have no doubt that the spirits of our family members will continue to help us when we need them the most. I’m aware that my time will not last too much more than a few more years, it might end earlier than that. I have a peace that has carried me throughout many years of hardship and even a few tragedies. My brother has made it known to me that life goes on after death. This is something wonderful to know. I know I have been blessed.”

      CAÑON CITY

      Cañon City rests within south central Colorado and is situated on state highway 50, northwest of Pueblo. To the north of town is the Rampart range of mountains, and to the south, the Wet Mountains. Many visitors regard Cañon City as the gateway to the Royal Gorge State Park, which has the world’s highest suspension bridge at more than 1,000 feet.

      In town, you’ll discover an exhibit of local archeological examples of dinosaur bones—the Dinosaur Depot. The museum also offers directions to a self-guided dinosaur hike that is not far from town. What is unusual about such a town is that there are nine state penitentiaries within its location. Within one of these properties is the Colorado Territorial Prison Museum. It’s an excellent opportunity to view jail cells, historical criminal documents, and see an actual gas chamber! Just east of town is located The Benedictine Holy Cross Abbey and vineyard. Prior to its closing the abbey offered a good taste sampling of its award-winning vintages.

      Martha Munroe’s Story

      My meeting with Martha was a joy I’ll not soon forget. Her eagerness to make me feel welcome in her house and her genuine nature was something I’ll always remember.

      Our interview was held in her living room, surrounded by numerous framed family photos she had arranged with care. During the interview, whenever she would speak of a particular family member, she would get up off her chair and return with one of their photos, saying “Here, this is him, oh, he was such a handsome man,” etc.

      Martha’s story is a winding story of secrets, travels, and heartfelt sincerity, and it is so very telling in its moralistic description. I admittedly was emotionally moved.

      — Antonio

      “Originally I was born in Colorado, then moved to Seattle, Washington, in the late 1960s. In 1984, I returned to Colorado, and remain to this day in Cañon City. My story is about an aunt of mine who lived most all her life in Cañon City. She was my favorite aunt, Aunt Billie. Both she and I kept in close contact with each other throughout her life. There was a similarity in our lives, which we were both somewhat proud of, in that we never did marry, remaining spinsters.

      Aunt Billie was born in 1904 and was the oldest of three children, a boy and two girls. My mother was the youngest. For as long as I could remember my Aunt Billie always wore her hair in a tight bun in the back of her hair. And she never did change this hairstyle. From the start, my mother told me that my aunt was a very strong-willed girl and had her own way of doing things. From time to time when the question would arise as to why she had never married, Aunt Billie would respond, “Men are too complicated. I like my life to be simple. I don’t need a man hanging around me like a lost calf.”

      In her later years, Aunt Billie began to suffer from rheumatoid arthritis in her spine and joints. This condition worsened as the years came and went. Because of this chronic disease she never once visited me in Seattle. When I’d ask her to visit she would answer, “Oh, it’s too wet and cold. Opossum, you know my back can’t take the wet rain.” ‘Opossum’ was an endearing name she would call me. Having been a premature new- born, Aunt Billie said that when she had first laid her eyes on me, I resembled a tiny little mouse, or baby opossum. So, from an early age, as soon as I was able to understand people and my surroundings, I always associated my aunt’s face with СКАЧАТЬ