The Ghosts Around Us

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I come from a culture where we believe that our clan's dead still remain with us or come back from wherever they are to guide us through this mortal plane.
It was over a week ago that a favourite aunt of mine passed away. She figures in this story I am about to tell you.
I think I was about 7 or 8 years old when I first met my granduncle, my grandmother’s brother.  I have to make this distinction because I have granduncles who are not related to me but are close family friends. 
Anyway, my family and I visited my aunt, his daughter who lived with her best friend, Theresa. Theresa had been diagnosed with cancer and my aunt decided to stay in her house so that she could take care of her.  Back then, not many cancer treatments were immediately available. I think Theresa had to go to the States to find a cure but it was too late. 
She was dying.
It was late afternoon when we arrived at the house. I can still remember the heat of the day shimmering off the pavement.  The sun was at the two o’clock position in the sky.  The air was dry and dead leaves crunched underneath our feet. Still, the heat was bearable despite it being in the middle of the dry season in the tropical country I called home then.
My aunt opened the door for us, greeting my grandparents, my sister, my mom and my other aunt. That was when I met my granduncle.  He had this slight smile on his face. He was well dressed in a suit and I thought that he must be on his way out. He just stood there by the door while everyone filed past to enter the house.  Not even my grandparents said a word to him. To think that he was their matchmaker when they were in college!
So! Everyone had gone inside except me. I hung around because as I neared my granduncle, he smiled. I happily greeted him and asked him where he was going. He looked down and said he wasn’t going anywhere.
“So come inside,” I said. Then I added, “Let’s both go inside.”
He said that he would stay out for a while but he would come inside the house soon. I nodded before entering the cooler confines.
I went to sit with the older people before my sister and I started running around the house until we were shushed by my grandmother. Night had already fallen. I was getting bored and wondered where my granduncle was. I went to the door and opened it. He wasn’t there. I went back to the living room where the rest of my family still kept on talking.  I asked my aunt where my granduncle was. My aunt gave me a quizzical look. I told her that her father said he would be inside the house soon but he hadn’t arrived. So I asked her again. Right after I said those words, my grandmother stood up to take me away and scold me.  My other aunt told me not to make up stories. I said I wasn’t making up stories. I told all of them that I had spoken to him when we arrived because he was at the door. It hurt that they thought I was lying. I didn't speak about this incident for a very long time.
More than a decade later, during one of the clan reunions, we sat around the table telling ghost stories. I told them about meeting our granduncle. My aunt, the one whose best friend had died, asked if she could talk to me. We sat at another table wondering what she wanted.  She asked me if I could still remember how my granduncle looked like. I said yes and told her how he appeared to me – that he was in a suit and that he looked as though he was about to go somewhere.  She asked what color. I said brown.
She spoke softly. “That suit that you describe is what he wore when we buried him more than twenty years before you were born.”
No wonder everyone thought that I had made it up. But children wouldn't lie. So when children say that they have seen someone you know has passed away, don't scold them. Who knows? They might just really have seen the dead.
Up close.