The Elder Law Guide to Ghost Stories

My dad passed away before dawn on a January day in 2012.

Hearing a phone ring at 4:30 a.m. activates a response so primal, so ancient, you could almost picture an ancestor feeling the same thing as they anticipate a saber tooth tiger attack on their cave. His doctor called me at that early hour and allowed me the time and space to react to the news. I will always appreciate her kindness.

The time for mourning and reflection had to be postponed for a little while, as a 45-minute car ride to Rockland was ahead of me. There were funeral arrangements and phone calls to be made. Those early morning hours were purpose-driven and provided enough distraction to blunt the overwhelming emotions bubbling beneath.

When the day’s checklist reached completion, I drove to my dad’s house (my childhood home) and intended on eating lunch there before heading back to Brewster. The house had been unoccupied for close to seven months, since Dad stayed in multiple hospitals and rehabilitation facilities during his final illness.

After ascending the two sets of stairs leading from the rec room to the main level, I approached the dining room table and saw that my dad’s to-do-list on yellow-lined paper was still in the same spot since he first scribbled it in early July of 2011.

The first cracks in my demeanor began in those moments, but as I placed my bagged lunch down on the table, a thunderous roar shook the house.

Scared? You bet.

Heart jumping out of my chest? Definitely.

Did I believe my father was communicating with me from the hereafter? Probably.

I do not venture into magical thinking often, but that was about as good a time as any. And the noise and vibrations did not subside. As the seconds ticked by, the noise’s consistency helped to reduce my fear. I decided to walk toward the source of the hubbub, which was in the hall bathroom.

The water jets for the bathtub had activated, but no water was in the tub. The only way to activate or deactivate the jets was to depress a heavy stainless-steel button on the top of the tub.

I pressed the button. The noise stopped.

Now, my grades in physics were OK. I think my Regents score was either an 88 or 89. Not bad. Was there a reasonable, scientific, physics-based explanation for any of this? Not really.

I had been in the house at least twice a week for extended time throughout the previous several months, and I would continue to spend a lot of time in the house, cleaning it out over the course of the next two years. No noise. No water jets. Nothing. Just that one moment, a few hours after dad had passed, and then never again.

Halloween is not supposed to be steeped in ambiguity. The animatronic ghost wails and screams, the chains rattle, and we get frightened. Our ghosts – the people we have lost – are not scary. They appear in a passing thought when you see someone in a store that bears even a tiny resemblance. It brings out a smile as you remember the person they were and the joy they exuded.

Our ghosts live with us and follow us around in our memories… and sometimes in our bathtubs.

Alan D. Feller, Esq., is managing partner of The Feller Group, located at 572 Route 6, Suite 103, Mahopac. He can be reached at alandfeller@thefellergroup.com.