LUKY
SOME YEARS AGO MY THEN HOMETOWN WAS IN THE NEWS ON ACCOUNT OF THE DESECRATION OF A GRAVE IN OUR CEMETERY. You may have heard about it.
We were of course shocked. The cemetery is a beautiful sunny place, far enough from the outskirts of the city to allow the sense of peace which reigns there to continue undisturbed.
When I heard about it I remembered my father in law's story, told to me in Ireland.
Lost in action
During an operation, my father in law received five bullets, one being shot at point blank range as he lay in a ditch.
He never forgot a dying comrade's pleas: "Oh don't, don't" as his friend was bayonetted to death.
Though still conscious [the Whittles take a lot of killing] he played possum until all had left the field. Thereafter my father in law managed to crawl to safety.
For safety's sake it had been given out that he had been killed and his mother had believed the news.
When the strife was over he walked into their bakery, confident of a great welcome.
His mother disappointed him by sinking into a deep faint. She thought he was a ghost.
A few years later he and his then fiancée went for a walk to the scene of the struggle, which was near a shrine to St Brigid.
The two of them knelt down to say a prayer.
Steady regard
As my father in law was praying he caught sight of a man, standing at the side of the ditch, who was regarding him steadily.
With a jolt he recognized his dead comrade.
On the way back, his fiancée asked him: "Who was that man near the ditch? Had you ever seen him before? Why did he stare at you like that?"
My father in law, without explaining, first took her to see the man who had led the operation and asked her to describe the man she had seen.
The friend had no difficulty in recognizing the dead comrade, even to the clothes he wore on the night he died.
Reburied
He went with them to see a priest, who found, upon investigation, that the man had somehow been buried in unhallowed ground.
So his remains were dug up and transferred to consecrated ground, after which he must have rested in peace, because they never saw his ghost again.
You may be sceptical about the story, but Ireland is a place where everything seems possible.
The least superstitious of people, I once declined the honour of visiting a supposedly haunted place on the chime of midnight.
In Ireland I found it easy to believe in ghosts.
Tampered memory
However, whether you believe in them or not, you cannot fail to recoil at the thought of the desecration of a grave.
I pity those who could stoop to desecrate a grave and tamper with the memory of someone who went before them on a road they too will one day follow, and this time without the moral support of those who helped them to open the very coffin of the dead woman.
May God forgive them this deed. And may the family of the dead person find it in their hearts, too, to forgive these people, whoever they may have been and whatever may have been their motivation.
As for me, I was rather looking forward to being buried in that peaceful sundrenched cemetery once my duty towards my family had been fulfilled.
Now the prospect doesn't look nearly as attractive.
Catherine Nicolette
Do I believe in ghosts? Well, to be truthful, I certainly didn't.
In my teens I was sure they were the product of either superstition or an overactive imagination.
All of which led me at nineteen years of age to be amused by some work colleagues who shakily asserted a ghost haunted our workplace.
In my youthful innocence, I couldn't speak for laughing. They fixed me with an earnest gaze, and assured me to be careful; ghosts really do exist.
"Things going bump in the night, eh?" I concluded the conversation. "Nah, I don't believe a word of it. There's no such thing as ghosts."
'Are you there?'
One memorable night shift, I happened to be alone in the very place which all had declared to be haunted.
I had quite happily assented to a shift in that area; all my colleagues declining the honour.
In the early hours, I thought I heard what sounded like a little gravel stone being thrown over my right shoulder to hit the ground with a brisk little clip.
This occurred each time I did a security round. A thorough survey of the ground showed no stones.
Indeed, there were no stones available on the soft flooring.
I tsked at myself for imagining the sound. However - imagination or no - the sound became more frequent as the night wore on.
Declare yourself
By five am I had had enough. I called out, "I don't believe in ghosts! So if there is anyone there, show yourself!" laughing derisively the while.
All I will say is that what occurred thereafter left me utterly shaken.
The next day I did not immediately return home; Instead, I went to early morning Mass and begged our local Parish priest to offer the Mass for a soul who was not at peace.
He did so, and I felt deeply comforted.
Pray for the souls in Purgatory
I have since become thoughtful about the whole issue of spirits who, for one reason or another, have found themselves unable to 'walk into the light'.
The Holy Church advises praying for souls in purgatory. This is a sensible practice.
The definition of the adjective 'purgatory' means having the quality of cleansing or purifying.
Some on earth whose spirits still continue unquiet due to their life issues may certainly find themselves unable to make the final crossing of the divide between earth to Heaven.
The final walk into the Hereafter is finalized once we are completely at peace.
And some spirits are still not yet fully at peace . . .
Final redemption
In the immortal words of Shakespeare's Hamlet, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of.
Let us rest secure that the God of Heaven and earth has all securely within His loving Hands, and will work towards the full redemption of each individual person in His eternal time.
In the meantime, don't bother taunting a ghost; it's not a good idea . . .
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