In Our House

Beneath these three gravestones lined up in a row in the cemetery near our farm are three children of the Dickey family. Each child died at two years of age, probably of diptheria, Orton in 1871, Arthur in 1876, and Leota in 1879. The Dickey family was one of the early owners of our farm; I have seen their name on the farm deed. Albert and Phebe Dickey were the parents of these three; I have no idea if any of their children lived to adulthood, but there is no one by that name living in our area today.
What suddenly dawned on me with startled clarity, a week ago on Sunday afternoon, as I was gazing at these stones, was that these children would have lived and died right in the house we live in!

When we remodeled a couple years ago, and were tearing out walls, it was easy to tell which part of the house is the oldest. There was old, dark, hand-sawed wood there with square nails in it. We think that oldest portion of the house was built in the 1860's. A two-story addition was constructed in 1897, and we know that for sure because the date "July 11, 1897", was penciled in on the boards beneath the old wood siding we were removing. (Get this....... July 11 is Husband's birthday!)

Here is the inscription on Albert Dickey's tombstone. He died November 26, 1893. (Click picture to see it larger.)

And, below is the friendly cat that followed me around in the cemetery that sunny afternoon, posing contentedly for a portrait here and there.

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Wow, can very many of us imagine living in a time when losing children like that was a common occurrence?! There were no antibiotics and vaccines back then. Just think of it.

I'm not saying the following was anything more than my imagination, but on Monday morning, the day after I took these photos, I awakened very early to the feeling that someone was gently slapping my feet together. It wasn't Husband; he was still sawing logs. My next thought was that for some odd reason my nineteen-year-old daughter was trying to quietly wake me up to tell me something, that she'd had a dream or didn't feel good, but when I finally lifted my head to look, NO ONE was there. I fell back asleep, and it happened again, and then again, for a total of three times. Like I said, it felt exactly like someone was using their hands to gently slap my feet together. Like something a little kid would do. And no, I've never experienced that sensation before,........ever.

I know that as a Christian I'm not supposed to believe that spirits could hang around a place, but I can't entirely rule out that its not possible. I don't use the word "ghost", for I don't care for the frightfulness that usually gets associated with the word. It wouldn't bother me a bit if spirit remnants of those little toddlers who died here tried to get my attention. I can't say there's been any other odd things happen over the years, so maybe this incident was simply my imagination at work after realizing those children had died here years ago. Although, my daughter has told me ever since she was little that she feels a presence in her room at night......up in a corner near the ceiling; I've always assured her its probably an angel.

I've also read that its possible that the energy of strong emotions can hang around in the place where something traumatic happened. I would think the illnesses and deaths of several children would have produced plenty of emotional reaction in the parents and other loved ones.

Who knows??!! We think we know so much, but I wonder if we really do.

I hope I haven't weirded you out for the day.......stories like this don't bother me, but they might bother some people, and I apologize if it bothers any of you reading this.

Enjoy this Memorial Day! Maybe you're celebrating the start of summer with a family picnic or a day trip or some other relaxing activity. Have a great time and be safe!