​Not Quite a Ghost Whisperer: My Spooky Cemetery Encounter! 👻

You know, most people go to the cemetery for quiet contemplation, to visit loved ones, or maybe for a brisk walk. Me? I go to play detective. My weapon of choice? My phone and the incredible Find a Grave app. I spend hours wandering amongst the silent residents, documenting forgotten souls, and generally being a happy, history-obsessed nerd.

​Last Sunday was no different. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I was deep in concentration, camera poised over a particularly mossy headstone, when I overheard some distressed murmuring nearby. Two ladies, clearly sisters, were looking utterly bewildered, staring at a patch of grass with an expression that screamed, "Grandma, where are you?!"

​Now, I pride myself on being helpful. And let's be honest, spotting someone struggling in a cemetery is like catnip to a genealogist. I sauntered over, trying to look less like a grave-robbing specter and more like a friendly neighborhood history enthusiast.

​"Everything alright?" I asked, probably a little too cheerfully for the solemn surroundings.

​They jumped. Like, full-on, startled-deer jumped. "Oh! Oh, yes," the older lady stammered, clutching her purse. "We just... we can't find our grandmother's grave. We know she's here, but the stone... it's just not here anymore."

​Aha! My moment to shine! "Do you know her name and approximate burial year?" I asked, already pulling up the Find a Grave app on my phone. "I might be able to help. This app often has GPS coordinates for graves."

​Their eyes widened. I quickly typed in the name. "Ah, here we go! Margaret 'Peggy' Johnson? Buried in Section C, Row 12, Plot 4. Looks like her headstone is still there in the system, and it even has a photo." I pointed to a spot just a few feet away. "Looks like it should be right about... here."

​They exchanged a look that I couldn't quite decipher at the time. A mix of awe, disbelief, and maybe a touch of... fear? Nevertheless, they followed my directions. And sure enough, after a few minutes of gently prodding the grass, they uncovered a small, flat footstone with "P. JOHNSON" barely visible. Joy erupted! Hugs, happy tears, all the good stuff. I smiled, feeling like a cemetery superhero, and quietly went back to my own photo-documenting adventures.

​A good fifty minutes later, I was crouched down, attempting to get a decent shot of a very eroded inscription, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Then another. And another! It was the two ladies.

​"Excuse me," the one whispered, her voice a little shaky. "We just... we wanted to make sure you were real."

​I straightened up, thoroughly confused. "Real? Of course, I'm real!"

​The mother nodded solemnly. "Because... well, when you just appeared like that, and knew exactly where Grandma was, and then just vanished... we thought maybe... maybe Grandma sent you. You know, from the other side. A friendly ghost, here to guide us."

​I burst out laughing! A ghost! Me, the girl who tripped over a twig on the way in and almost face planted on someones resting place. "Nope, definitely not a ghost!" I assured them, holding out my hand for them to shake. "Just a very enthusiastic genealogist with a knack for apps."

​They both tentatively reached out and gave my arm a good, firm squeeze, a look of immense relief spreading across their faces.

​So, there you have it. My brush with the supernatural. Turns out, my passion for the past is so intense, I almost got mistaken for a helpful apparition. Next time, I might just wear a "Definitely Not A Ghost" t-shirt. Or maybe I'll embrace it. "Ghost of Genealogy Past, at your service!" Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? 👻😂