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Tuesday, March 29, 2011
GUEST BLOG: HEATHER GRAHAM
I have been on several "investigations," and, of course, I'm still not sure what I believe. In my heart, I definitely want ghosts to exist. Has one ever tapped me on the shoulder? No. I love the people I work with; they're there to disprove ghosts as much as prove them, which is what the Krewe of Hunters work at, too. A few personal experiences made me believe in more. Well, actually, a lifetime made me believe in more.
My mom came from Ireland, and I spent a lot of formative years with her family. To keep my sister and me in line, Granny would tell us that if we didn't take care, "the banshees would be gettin' us in the outhouse!" We were teenagers before we talked and admitted she had us going--we didn't have an outhouse!
My father in law was a devout Catholic--but he also loved every minister on air, and would listen to anyone of any faith; if there ever was a man who deserved Heaven, it was him. I was with him when he was gravely ill at the end; I was alone with him when his breathing changed. I called the doctor who said that he was in a coma and would not come out of it, so I sat there holding his hand and waiting for my husband and mother-in-law. Suddenly he sat straight up, looked out across the room, reached his hand out and smiled. Then he fell back, and he was dead. I looked across the room and felt chills up and down, but I wasn't afraid; I believe that someone--angel? Parent? Brother, sister?--came for him. Of course, I'm sure a scientist might explain about nerve endings and the brain, but he was a tremendously good man, and I can't help but believe what I felt.
A second story has to do with a young friend who is six-four and a very macho cop. He was called to an accident. He got a man out of the driver's seat, but the man begged him to go back for his daughter. My friend hadn't seen a little girl. He went back because the father was so ardent. He found the little girl under the seat in back, got her out, and the car exploded. He brought the little girl to the paramedics, and then asked about the father. The paramedic was puzzled; he told my friend that the father had a broken neck--he had been killed on impact. So, does our desire to protect go beyond death? I don't know. I know that I met one very shaken six-foot-four macho cop at my son's house that night!
Have you had any experiences you couldn't explain? Leave a comment and tell us your thoughts. One lucky commenter will win a print copy of "Phantom Evil"!
Take a look at Heather's new book and read our review of this novel here:
In bestseller Graham’s sultry novel of paranormal romantic suspense, Jackson Crow, a former member of the government’s Behavioral Sciences Unit in Washington, D.C., leads a covert group investigating a reputedly haunted New Orleans house. When Regina Holloway, the wife of a popular Louisiana state senator takes a fatal fall from the balcony of the couple’s French Quarter mansion, her death is officially ruled a suicide, but could ghosts have been involved? Angela Hawkins, a Virginia police officer with the ability to detect paranormal activity, partners with Jackson professionally and romantically as she assists his team in discovering the truth behind Regina’s death. Graham (Night of the Vampires) expertly blends a chilling history of the mansion’s former residents with eerie phenomena, once again demonstrating why she stands at the top of the romantic suspense category. (Apr.)