My Grandparents lived in a 200 year old house in Vermont where we would visit occasionally. I always had an unsettling feeling in that house; probably mostly due to the stories my mother would tell me: the Irish wakes that would be held in the front parlor, how there was a speakeasy in the dirt covered basement, and how she would see flashing little lights in her bedroom at night.
When I was in 6th grade my Grandmother passed away. We made the trip and my parents and brothers and I stayed at the house with my Grandfather. My mother slept on the main floor to keep my Grandpa company. My brothers stayed in my mom and Aunt’s old rooms. Meanwhile my Dad and I stayed in the “big” room which was my Grandparent’s room.
I was not made to go to the wake. That night as I slept something woke me. Just as I opened my eyes I could see my Grandmother standing over me. She was a ghostly figure - all I could see was her body shape outlined in a sheer milky white. Her face was not there, but it was clearly her. Well, as you can imagine, being a young girl of maybe 11 I let out a scream that surprisingly didn’t wake my Grandmother. I woke the entire house, freaked out my brothers, and goodness knows what my poor Grandpa thought.
So after some length of time they calmed me down. My mother slept with me. I fell asleep only to be woken up again a short time later to see my Grandma again. I don’t think anyone got any sleep that night.
Thankfully we went home after the funeral. I have never seen her since. The house has now been torn down. My Grandma used to call me and mom “her girls”. I truly believe that she just wanted to say goodbye to her girls.