Ghost Stories a Mile High in the Sky

A perfect ending to the weekend

Cathy Joseph

Feb 05, 2025

Article voiceover

1×

0:00

-8:49

My brother, his wife and I scattered Mom’s ashes this past Saturday. I am always on edge in Arizona. The baggage I carry with me is not the kind that fits into a suitcase – it continues to hide in the corners of my soul.

I love this Ram Dass quote.[1] I have lived it and know it to be true.

“If you think you’re enlightened go spend a week with your family.”

It doesn’t take a week.

Self-Care

I try my best to turn adversity into something more palatable, and I did that particularly well this weekend.

There were just shy of 120,000 reward miles I had saved for a first class ticket to somewhere exotic or exciting, but using them for this Arizona trip was just the balm I needed.

I must digress for a moment to say just how wonderful it is to be treated as someone of value on a flight. I champion intentionally honoring communication and oh did I feel honored as a passenger!

How nice to drink out of a glass, to eat off a plate with real cutlery – no plastic anywhere to be seen. How nice to have room to stretch my legs, to get comfortable in a cushy chair and to blissfully fall asleep. (Uber picked me up at 3:35 AM for my 6:00 flight on Friday – and I am NOT a morning person!)

This was wonderful self-care – as was meeting friends Saturday afternoon which gave my family and I a break from each other. That break also brought the joy of sharing stories and laughter over a bite to eat - one of my favorite things EVER!

Peace

I have felt at peace with my mother’s passing, and scattering her ashes at dawn added an extra layer of peace. We had scattered my father’s ashes at his country club golf course 21 years ago, and we did the same with Mom. What differed was the location.

We parked and started walking across the course, trying to recognize where we left Dad. I remembered a short bridge and saw it on the opposite side of the lake. None of us were inclined to walk the extra distance and we found a nice spot nearby. The sun was getting brighter, and we could see people starting their day. Photos of the sunrise are below.

The more I think of it, the more perfect it was that my parents did not share the same spot – they couldn’t even watch TV in the same room. Dad would be in the living room and Mom in the family room watching the same program on two different TVs. Allowing them to keep their distance somehow feels right.

We stopped at Mom’s care home after, and it was so very nice to see the owner and her staff who had taken such loving care of her. There is no amount of thanks that will ever be enough – though we did our best to express that in multiple ways. More peace filled my heart as we drove away.

Ghost Stories on the Way Home

It was on my flight home Sunday in seat 2F that ghost stories were shared with my seatmate in 2D.

As I nestled in my comfy chair next to the window, a gentle giant of a man sat next to me and we greeted each other with warm smiles and a quick hello. We didn’t start speaking until an hour or two into the flight, after we had eaten dinner.

Our conversation started on a somewhat serious note after I responded to his question about the purpose of my trip. 2D’s family was something he had to find his way through, as well. In many ways, his path was harder. His parents threw him out as a teenager when they learned he was gay, and he went to live with an uncle. I don’t think he’s seen them since.

His husband came out in his 30s after he married and had two children. It sounds like they have a beautiful relationship. I will not share the unkind things people have said to them and the children, and the fear that is often present just out of sight. No one deserves that.

2D leaned closer and asked if I had any ghost stories. He said it is a question he likes to ask people he meets. I said I did and learned that he did, as well – and that got us started.

My stories are not strictly of the ghost variety, but I have seen spirits in multiple settings and forms over the years – and continue to do so.

My first experience started by seeing what looked like a small square of white cloth moving behind me, reflected in the bathroom mirror. I saw it a second time going out the bedroom door and into the room where my dog was sleeping. She ran out with her tail tucked between her legs and hid under our bed.

The third sighting was seen only by my husband. He was aware of being awake and opened his eyes to see what he described as an ancient man wearing a tattered shroud. The square of cloth I had seen was a piece of the shroud. They looked eye to eye, and then the apparition disappeared.

After our divorce, the spirit went with my ex-husband which is fitting since it arrived very soon after he had verbalized a wish to know if there was life after death. He got his answer.

The second story I shared was seeing what looked like a whisp of smoke out of the corner of my eye. It first appeared when I lived in South Africa with my second husband. It came to the US with us and appeared in each home we lived in together – one spot per home. After the divorce, it came with me, but I never saw it again after I moved to New York. Well, not yet.

I always felt a peaceful comfort when I saw it. It was a connection to something far bigger than my day-to-day life. I felt watched over and I loved that.

In a stark contrast, 2D’s ghosts were dark and malevolent. He kept seeing a shadow in his home as a child and it frightened him, but his parents discounted what he was seeing. All that changed when his father was swimming and felt something grab his ankle and pull him to the bottom of the pool. Plans to move immediately followed.

He also told me of a woman in her 80s who fell down a flight of stairs in her home. Cameras had been installed to ensure her safety. When the tapes were reviewed, a dark figure appeared behind her and pushed her – and down she went.

These were truly spooky! Hearing them reminded me of stories shared at summer camp and on sleepovers. I’ve been thinking about why it felt so good to scare each other as children, and what occurs to me is that those stories drew us together. We leaned in to hear every word, and we knew we were safe exploring them together. All stories have the power to do that.

Not wanting to end this conversation on a dark note, I shared one more that was told to me by friends in South Africa. Friends of theirs lived in a haunted house. Many examples were shared but I only remember one. Someone went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and watched aghast as the roll of toilet paper unspooled in front of them. Talk about feeling vulnerable!

A Reflection

My joyous conversation with 2D[2] was such a delight! We felt very comfortable with each other from our initial greeting. It was genuine and heartfelt – and that is something that is palpable.

In contrast, I spent the weekend needing to weigh my words with my family. I felt on edge. I did not feel safe. Much of that comes from carrying the baggage of the past, which is something I continue to unpack.

I have always been an outlier in my family. I have learned to love and accept each of them, even though they were incapable of understanding me. Judgments, derision, divisive comments are the tools of their trade.

The weekend brought some glimmers of positive change, but I was afraid to fully trust it. That will take time.

It was sharing ghost stories with a stranger who became a friend for a few hours that brought a happy close to the trip. We were two people doing their best to heal while finding a way to live their best life. It was no accident that we sat together.