My Father's Tale of a Filipino White Lady

Sadly,  my father and I don't see each other often,  but he did send me a wonderful ghost story.  It is a personal story.  It was something he experienced when he was very young and living in the Philippine Islands.   The story is wonderful, because it is so rich in family and other history and because it includes one of my favorite kinds of ghosts.  It includes a  white lady.   All of you who read my blog regularly,  know I love these tragic ghosts and the sad stories that make them.  I hope you enjoy this one as much as I did.

"In 1949 after my father's untimely death at the tender age of 33 in early April my mother took my two younger brothers and I across the Pacific Ocean on a big Commercial Liner to visit my father's family in a suburb of Manila on Luzon ,the big island. I was only 5 years old but something so incredible happened which left me with a very clear memory and a large scar on my left knee.

I was in the back of my 19 year old cousin Spanky's WW11 Jeep on our way cruisin' the war torn streets of San Juan when he turned a corner past some old blown apart buildings (there were so many of these then). There was this girl in a long traditional white Filipino wedding dress just crossing the street and he started to swerve to avoid hitting her. I thought for sure he was going to crash into the old palm tree on the side of the road so I jumped out into the side of the road. I rolled and landed on one foot and a knee which happened to get impaled by an old piece of shrapnel. They scooped me out of the dirt and rushed me to the hospital where I ended up with 6 stitches from which I still bare the scare to this day. And I'm now almost 66 years old.

I never did figure out where the girl in the puffy sleeved wedding dress came from or went. And I never thought that my daughter would some day publish a story to kind of explain what happened."
Of course,  he is referring to my Filipino White Lady story from a few nights ago.  I wrote about this ghost without ever having heard this story from him.  It is strange how stories can come together.


I'm sorry you lost your father at such an early age. But how lovely you had the opportunity to hear him tell you of his own personal experience.

The visual imagery of the retelling is beautiful. Simply beautiful.

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