I made an account to tell this after lurking for a good few years.
This is actually my mums story. I trust her completely - the first time she told me this story she started crying and she also tries not to believe in paranormal occurrences. This was in the late seventies, in England.
My mum had been living on the Isle of Wight, until the age of nine, when she was orphaned and sent to the mainland to live with relatives. She found herself living with an older auntie and uncle, and her dying, bedridden grandma (auntie and mother's mum).
One night she couldn't sleep and wanted a drink so went into her auntie and uncles bedroom to ask if she could go and get one. They said she could so she began descending the dark staircase. From the bottom of these stairs you could look ahead and see into the kitchen. As she got closer to the bottom, and my mums eyes adjusted to the light. She looked ahead, and realised there was someone in the kitchen. Her grandma. Her supposedly bedridden grandma.
My mum says she called out to her and she didn't get a response. Knowing her grandmother shouldn't even be able to get out of bed alone, she ran back upstairs to alert her auntie of what she'd seen.
The auntie told her not to be silly and was certain that it must be her eyes playing tricks in the dark. My mum remained adamant of what she had seen, so in an effort to calm my mum down, her auntie said she would escort her downstairs to get her drink, whilst stopping by grandma's room first to show her she was definitely in there. After all, she hadn't walked in years, she wouldn't of been able to get down the stairs in the dark without making a right song and dance out of it.
My mum and her auntie got to her grandma's room. Her auntie pushed the door open, lighting the room.
Sure enough there was her grandma. Dead.