Some fights, you cannot win.
More often than not, this is the case regarding ghosts. It was certainly a plain fact with Mary Elizabeth Daniels.
Mary was 101 years old when she died on January 1, 1911, and it took me until August of that same year to remove her from her family home on Main Street Cross. According to her grandson, Kell, Mary appeared as a ghost three days after her burial. At first, the family attempted to appease her. They spoke with her, brought her favorite books to her, and proceeded with life as though she too was still alive.
Mary was having none of it. During the first week, she remained in her chair, neither speaking nor responding to her family’s gestures. On the eighth day, however, Mary chased them all from the room, locking them out. Each day became a struggle to keep the parlor available to the rest of the family. Finally, Mary began to battle her relatives. It was only then that I was asked to intervene.
Mary and I had been friends for almost thirty years, and when she was still alive, she had valued my opinion. When I saw her in the chair, I knew that it was no longer the case.
Rather than try and convince her I was right and that she should stay, or try and force her out, I made an attempt to convince her to remain. I told her about how all her relatives and well-wishers would flock to the house, and how they would constantly seek to speak with her.
Mary had hated company when she was alive, and it was exacerbated in death.
She vanished after two months of constant reassurances of how popular she was.
I understood her dismay perfectly. Relatives and company both are overrated.
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