Ghost Stories And The Unexplained
A.V. Harrison Publishing
That’s All I Know
Now that my mother – and all of her relatives – are dead, I am the keeper of the family photographs that have been handed down over the decades. I was looking at pictures of my Grandpa Jimmy the other day. He was my Grandmother’s second husband. Her first husband, Earl, died in 1925, under unusual circumstances, when my mom was thirteen months old.
There are many photographs of Grandpa Jimmy in the collection – but only one of my real grandpa, Grandfather Earl. The one photograph of Earl Seaman shows an overly serious farm boy in his mid-twenties. The photograph is unnaturally colorized photo so that he and my grandmother have bright rosy cheeks. He is standing at the open door of a two-room farm cabin. My grandmother is standing next to him with a babe in her arms - my mother, whose presence has nearly faded. A young boy is standing with them - my Uncle Richard. The presence of three shadows mar the photograph. The young farm couple is looking straight into the camera’s eye, staring out at the misfortune that is about to befall them. A month after that picture was taken, Earl Seaman drowned in Turkey Creek. My grandmother often said, “I know he didn’t want to leave us. And, that’s all I know.”