I lost my brother when I was 15. He was really high from a mixture of drugs, on his tird relapse and hung himself early one morning. He was always in and out of the house at all times but he had a distinct routine and dying really didn't stop him continuing to do just that. You could clearly hear him pull up in his old, rusty car and the squeaky door would swing open. He'd stomp up the drive, kick off his boots, swing open the metal door and bounce up the stairs to his room. This happened every night for about two weeks. The weird thing was, when I finally got the guts up to look out the window, nothing would be there. The house would be still and completely silent. But if you stayed in your room, you could hear the whole routine.
I began thinking that I had gone crazy with grief. It wound me up until one night I burst out of my room at the exact time his ghost would be passing my door on his way to his room. I was scared shitless of seeing his ghost but thought that it might some how prove that I wasn't going insane. Instead I found my little brother in the hallway looking around too. He just simply asked me, "Can you hear him too?" Turns out we were hearing the exact same sequence of events. It stopped not long after that.
I'm atheist and really don't believe in these kinds of things but that rocked me. In my personal opinion though, due to the amount of drugs he was on when he died, he just didn't know that he was dead and was continuing to come home until one day his spirit realised (??)