After my father passed away, my mom began to come over more often. Her presence was comforting in those lonely months, but something strange was happening with Cindy, my daughter. Whenever my mom visited, Cindy would cry incessantly and avoid her grandmother like the plague. Mom brushed it off, saying that Cindy was simply spoiled by too much love and attention. But that explanation didn’t sit right with me. Cindy was always a perfect child when it was just the two of us.

One afternoon, after yet another tearful episode from Cindy, I decided it was time to get to the bottom of things. I sat her down on the living room couch, her favorite stuffed bunny clutched in her small hands.

“Hunny, why do you cry when Grandma is here?” I asked gently, trying to keep my tone light.

Cindy’s big, tear-filled eyes met mine. “Because of her friend,” she said quietly.

My heart skipped a beat. “What friend? She always comes alone, sweetheart.”

Cindy shook her head vigorously. “No, Mommy. There’s always a friend with her. A scary one.”

A chill ran down my spine. “What do you mean, Cindy? What does this friend look like?”

Cindy glanced around nervously, then whispered, “It’s a man, Mommy. He’s tall and always stands behind Grandma. He looks at me with mean eyes and tells me not to tell anyone about him.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “Cindy, honey, Grandma never brings anyone with her. Are you sure you’re not just imagining things?”

Cindy looked up at me with such earnestness that it broke my heart. “I’m not imagining, Mommy. He’s real. And he scares me.”

I hugged Cindy tightly, trying to soothe her while my mind raced. How could this be? My mom never mentioned anything about a friend, let alone bringing someone with her. But Cindy’s fear was palpable and undeniable. I knew I had to confront my mom about it.

The next time my mom came over, I watched her closely. She seemed her usual self—warm, affectionate, and a little overbearing. But I couldn’t shake Cindy’s words from my mind. As Cindy hid behind my legs, I decided to address the issue directly.

“Mom, Cindy says she sees a man with you when you come over,” I said, my voice trembling slightly.

My mom’s face went pale. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice unsteady.

“Cindy describes a tall man who scares her and tells her not to talk about him. Is there anything you need to tell me?” I pressed, my anxiety rising.

My mom took a deep breath and sat down, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. “I didn’t want to tell you this,” she began, her voice shaking. “After your father passed, I… I started seeing him. He’s been following me. I thought I was imagining it, but now Cindy sees him too.”

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. “Dad? You think Cindy is seeing Dad’s ghost?”

Mom nodded slowly. “I never wanted to scare you or Cindy. I thought I was losing my mind. But if Cindy sees him too, maybe he’s really here. Maybe he’s angry, or… I don’t know.”

That night, I decided we needed to do something to address this eerie presence. I contacted a local spiritual advisor, someone who was known for helping families with unexplained phenomena. She agreed to come over the next day.

When the advisor arrived, she immediately sensed a presence in the house. After a lengthy session of prayers and rituals, she told us that my father’s spirit was indeed lingering, but it wasn’t malevolent. He was confused and stuck between worlds, still trying to protect us in his way.

With her help, we performed a final ritual to help guide my father’s spirit to peace. The air in the house felt lighter afterward, and Cindy stopped crying when my mom visited.

My mom and I sat down with Cindy and explained that Grandpa was watching over us, but he was now in a happy place and wouldn’t scare her anymore. Cindy seemed relieved and even smiled.

In the end, the experience brought us closer together as a family. We learned to talk openly about our fears and feelings, and we found comfort in knowing that my father’s love for us transcended even death.