Conducting historical research and paranormal investigations introduces me to some very interesting people and situations. Some I continue to maintain a relationship with, such as Melanie Miles at the Harrison House in Leesburg, Virginia. While others were a passing acquaintance that for one reason or another are tucked into the overcrowded recesses of my memories. Cobwebs and dust are gathering in these dark corners, so I am trying to gather my experiences before they are as murky to my memory as 8th grade algebra and a 20” waistline.
Year-round tours in Leesburg are conducted by the Virginia Scientific Research Association. VSRA’s leader, Keeler Hunt, concludes the tour at the Loudoun County Courthouse beneath a 170-year old American Elm with the promise of touching a spirit. Late at night it is not uncommon to see groups of tourists with extended arms reaching into the courtyard’s quiet abyss. Many swear to a tingling sensation in their fingertips. At the end of every tour, Keeler, a self-proclaimed intuitive, recounts the story of the time a group led by VSRA founder, the late Joe Holbert, witnessed the apparition of a frightened soldier run across the lawn under the old elms and then disappear (March 2011 "Street Scenes.") Joe theorized that the apparition is the residual energy of a young soldier replaying the final moments of his life. Based on that theory, Holbert called on his science background to test the energy levels of the area. When Keeler joined him, she conducted her own intuitive tests, which resulted in the two of them discovering that a current of energy runs along a path in the grassy area of the courtyard that can be physically detected by meters and the human body.
At the end of my tours in Leesburg, I would also finish in the courtyard with the tantalizing promise of “touching a ghost.” More than once, the expression on the face of a skeptic dissolves into uncertainty as the current tingles their fingertips and lifts their arm hairs. The energy works its magic as a surge of adrenaline passes through the crowd, breaking their obedient tour group silence. Inevitably the group will begin sharing their own experiences. It was often my favorite part of the two-hour tour.
On one warm spring evening the group was especially eager to share their stories. One couple’s deceased cat still pitter-pattered across their kitchen floor and ruffled the newspaper each evening. Another person could smell his grandfather’s cigars. Throughout it all, a beautiful young girl shyly stood on the outskirts of the group clinging to her boyfriend’s arm. The courthouse clock chimed half-past eleven before the group began moving toward their vehicles. It was only then that her boyfriend gently nudged her toward me. In a guarded voice she asked me if I could tell her if her mother is still with her. Her dark eyes looked deep into mine, begging for a glimmer of hope that her mother is not gone.
I immediately wished that Keeler had taken this tour. I am in no way intuitive. This girl was not on the tour to hear tales of the ghosts of Leesburg. She was searching for something much deeper.
Slowly, she began to tell me about her mother, speaking with tenderness about her mother’s beauty and kindness and how cancer had robbed her of everything. In the end, as the mother’s body and mind wasted away, death was welcomed. But two years later the young girl still couldn’t get over the complete and absolute feeling of loss. She said that sometimes she catches a whiff of her mother’s perfume, or a note of a song, or a glimpse of her favorite color, but she wasn’t certain if it was her mother or wishful thinking.
At some point as she spoke, I had taken her hand. Normally not a touchy-feely person, my maternal instinct took over and I wrapped her in my arms. “Your mother is always with you,” I whispered. ”A mother’s love never dies.” She began sobbing in my arms. Wracking, heart-breaking sobs. I didn’t release her but let her cry it out. Behind her, her boyfriend mouthed the words “Thank you” through the silent tears streaming down his face. The moment had taken me completely by surprise and I thanked God that I was able to set aside my own social awkwardness to give this girl what she needed most…one last hug from her mother.
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