Luna Garcia

I witnessed my first paranormal experience at six years old. I woke up at 3 a.m. to a wide-eyed girl sitting at the foot of my bed. It may come as a surprise to most, but I felt no fear; instead, I felt extremely comfortable as I sat in silence with an apparition that everyone else believed was an imaginary friend. As kids, we create our own world, but mine was always different. These so-called “imaginary friends” never truly seemed imaginary. 

I lived in the same house as that little girl for 12 years, and since that moment in my room, this curiosity about the afterlife grew. I began watching thousands of videos on paranormal experiences hearing familiar words like “empath” and “medium” that now hold completely different meanings. 

While many girls turning 13 may ask for makeup, I asked for an Ouija board. My mom and I went to Toys-“R”-Us and bought my first one. Some of the Ouija board rules include: never use it alone, never use it in your home and never use it in a cemetery, two of which I broke that day. Fortunately, nothing bad happened, but my curiosity only grew further. 

Friday the 13 is the notorious day of “bad luck.” Yet, from my experience, this date encompasses unbelievable instances that only the afterlife can explain. My mom told me this story about when she and her best friend Kim were in college. Kim, who was very superstitious, told my mom to skip school and stay indoors on Friday the 13. My mom, disobeying Kim, decided to go and get the mail. As she walked across the street, a white truck hit her. From the day I heard that story I have stayed home every Friday the 13 showing how my belief in anything supernatural completely solidified and stayed with me forever. 

For my sanity, I have to believe in something beyond death. For me, the idea of spirits cures this morbid thought. Kim passed away a few years ago, and although some days hurt so bad, those memories allow me to smile rather than cry when I hear her name. Following her death, Kim stayed in my life in ways I cannot explain. A year after her death, my sister, mom and I were on vacation when I brought up a dream I had had about Kim the night before, and to my surprise, both my sister and my mom had a dream with Kim that same night. That day only proved this belief more, allowing me to believe so profoundly in loved ones always watching. 

My final straw with fully believing in the afterlife came recently when my uncle told me a story. He went to the cemetery to visit his grandma, and when he arrived, he spent hours trying to find her grave; ultimately deciding to head back to his car. As he approached his car, he saw a beam of light between the leaves of a tree and decided to follow it. Nearing the light, he saw it being cast directly on his grandmother’s grave. I believe in the afterlife because of hope. Believing that loved ones do not just disappear forever instills a feeling of peace within my own future. 

Doubts come as a side to any belief, but with the continuation of unexplainable instances, those doubts begin to fade away. Stemming from my childhood curiosity about what comes after death, I continue to explore this idea every day. Although I never came to a final answer, some mystery allowed my curiosity to continue to flourish, as I made it my goal to transform this external taboo surrounding ghosts into a personal acceptance. I have been called crazy for my beliefs, but one day people will see the truth. Experiencing loved ones watching over us instilled this belief in me forever.