Hey love, Ive got to tell you about whats been happening since we lost my mums sister a few weeks back. She passed away, left behind her fouryearold daughter, Poppy. My husband Mark and I took Poppy in, thinking we could give her a stable home. As soon as she learned her mother was gone, she shut herself off, stopped leaving the flat altogether. She even refused to move anywhere, so Mark and I moved into the flat where theyd been living with my mum. We figured after the funeral shed agree to stay with us, but the place became unbearable. At night the water would turn on and off by itself, the lights flickered, doors creaked and the floorboards moaned like someone was pacing from room to room. I tried a little blessing of the house, but it didnt change a thing.
One night I couldnt sleep while Mark was already deep in dreamland, and I heard a whisper coming from Poppys room. It sent a chill down my spine, but I didnt want to wake Mark. I flicked the light on, slipped to her door and listened. All I could hear was my little girls voice.
I dont want to go to bed, I want to play with Katie. Just a bit longer and then Ill sleep, she said.
I opened the door and she was crouched in the corner behind the wardrobe, clutching her doll and staring at me with a terrified look, as if I were some sort of intruder.
Poppy, who were you talking to just now? I asked.
Mum, she whispered.
A shiver ran down my spine. I tucked her in, curled up next to Mark, and fell asleep. Over the next week Poppy kept on having these little chats with someone, and I tried to brush it off as griefinduced stress after all, shed just lost her mother. The flat kept testing my patience.
One afternoon I was cooking dinner and kept calling Poppy to eat, but she shouted that she wasnt hungry. Shes always been a picky eater, so getting her to the table is a battle. Her mother had been, lets say, a bit impatient, and would have dragged her by the arm to sit down. I was on my tenth plea when I heard a massive crash followed by sobbing. I rushed into her room and saw a nightmare: a huge sliding wardrobe had toppled over the bed. Luckily it didnt crush her it just brushed the side of the bed and left a gap between the floor and the door. Poppy was terrified and stayed in a fullblown panic for the rest of the day.
That night I heard her wailing again, begging for forgiveness. I went in to comfort her; she clambered onto my lap and hugged me tight, eyes glued to the same corner of the room as if someone were standing there, looking scared.
Poppy, whos there? I asked.
Mum she whispered.
Sweetheart, tell Mum you can let her go now, ask her to leave, I said gently.
Mum doesnt want to leave! she replied, voice shaking.
When the fortieth day after the death arrived, Mark and I went to the graveyard, laid flowers on the headstone, and gave sweets to the children so they could say a prayer for her. After that, the house felt quiet. We sold the flat and brought Poppy back to our own place, and things finally started to settle down.
Just thought you should know its been a strange few weeks, but were getting through it. Talk soon.
