My Spiritual Journey: Signs from My Brother – The Day of the Comcast Appointment (Part 2)
After my brother passed, strange things started happening that I couldn’t explain. The next significant moment came not long after the washing machine incident, when I went to my parents’ house again—this time to wait for the Comcast man to show up for an appointment. My parents were both at work, so I agreed to go over and wait for him. My dad drove with me to the house, and I planned to hang out there alone until the technician arrived.
As we pulled up to the house, the first strange thing happened. The wind chimes on the front porch were going absolutely crazy. They were clanging together like there was a full-blown storm outside. But there was no wind—none at all. My dad and I exchanged a look, both of us knowing something felt off. The clanging created a discordant symphony, echoing in the stillness of the air, and we stood there for a moment, trying to rationalize what we were witnessing. The sound felt both eerie and familiar, a haunting reminder of the moments we had shared with my brother in that very house. We didn’t say anything, though, and just continued inside.
Once inside, my dad left for work, and I settled in for the wait. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against my ears and made my skin crawl. After a while, I went to the bathroom, seeking a moment of solitude to gather my thoughts. That’s when the second strange thing happened. The towel holder on the back of the door started shaking loudly—like someone was banging on it. It rattled continuously while I was in there, creating a rhythm that echoed my racing heart. Each thud felt like a ghostly reminder of the chaos that had recently entered my life. I felt uneasy, a chill running down my spine, but still, I brushed it off, unwilling to let my mind wander too far into the realm of the supernatural. I just wanted to wait for the Comcast man and return to normalcy.
Later, while I was on the phone with my boyfriend, I heard the front door open and footsteps walking into the house. My heart raced; I waited for whoever it was to come around the corner, assuming it was my dad or the Comcast man. But no one appeared. I called out, “Hello?” but got no answer. There was nothing—no movement, no response—just silence that hung thick in the air.
I told my boyfriend what had just happened, and he asked, "Who’s there?" I replied, "No one," because, well, no one came forward. It was unsettling, and I could feel an invisible weight settling over me, pressing down with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. My boyfriend had always been into ghost shows and paranormal things, but I had never been a believer. At that moment, though, I felt a mix of confusion and fear creeping in, as if I had stepped into a horror movie script I never signed up for. I couldn’t explain what was happening, but it felt like something was trying to get my attention, tugging at the corners of my consciousness.
When my parents and youngest brother came home later that day, my brother casually asked, "Did you hear the man under the house?" The question hit me like a ton of bricks, reverberating in my chest and sending shivers down my spine. My parents quickly looked at each other and then at him, their expressions a mixture of concern and exasperation, telling him to "shut up" because they didn’t want to scare me. "She’s not going to want to come back over," they added, trying to dismiss his comment. But I wasn’t letting it go. I took a deep breath and decided to share everything I had experienced that day—the wind chimes, the towel holder, the footsteps.
As I spoke, my parents exchanged another glance before finally saying, "It’s Larry." My deceased brother.
At that moment, my world shifted. All the strange things that had been happening finally made sense. It wasn’t random—it was him. He was trying to reach out, to let us know he was still around, and I had been ignoring it until then. A rush of emotions flooded through me—fear, sadness, and an unexpected comfort knowing that he was still present in some way. That day changed everything for me. I went home and told my boyfriend everything that had happened, my voice trembling with disbelief and fear. He thought it was fascinating, but I was scared. The spiritual realm had always seemed like something out of a movie or a ghost show, but now it was real—and I was in the middle of it.
What followed were days filled with even more unexplainable events—predicting things that would happen later in the day, experiencing out-of-body moments, and struggling with panic attacks that left me breathless. I felt like I was losing control, spiraling into a realm of unknowns. It was as if I was going through a baptism of sorts—a spiritual awakening that I wasn’t prepared for, one that forced me to confront not just my brother's passing but my own understanding of life, death, and everything in between.
I began to keep a journal to document everything, hoping that writing it down would help me make sense of it all. Each entry detailed the strange occurrences, from unexpected signs and coincidences to gut feelings that seemed to guide my decisions. The more I wrote, the more I felt a connection to my brother, as if he were leading me through this chaotic chapter of my life.
This was just the beginning of my journey into the unknown, and it changed my life forever. Each day became a step into a larger narrative, where I had to confront my fears and embrace the possibility that the world was much more complex and interconnected than I had ever imagined.
(To be continued...)
