I grew up believing there were no such things as ghosts.
I was taught that every unusual event had a rational explanation. If I couldn’t find an explanation, it just meant I hadn’t found it yet. My father was firmly in the camp of not believing in anything supernatural. We enjoyed a good ghost story, but we knew they were just stories.
Yes, we believed in God and we believed that God could do anything he wanted, but we were taught — at home and at school — that God wasn’t acting in supernatural ways in the world since the end of the Apostolic Age (which was covered by the second half of the New Testament). It was a nice, neat little theological explanation by which we could believe God did miraculous things back then — but there was nothing supernatural today, either good or bad.
That all changed — at least for my father — shortly after my grandfather died. My father’s long-time belief that everything had a rational and natural explanation changed after he was visited in the night by my dead grandfather.

How do we start over and give ourselves parenting we needed?
I don’t really hate you, honest; I’m just afraid you may hurt me
I’m losing need to explain myself to those who misunderstand me
Accepting joy tomorrow does no good if tomorrow never comes
My future plans are solid, but intuition says prepare for change
What do we prove with huge houses we can’t afford to pay for or even fill?
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
Society needs storytellers to help make sense of a changing world
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love