From Christopher:

My uncle, Walter Alvey, suffered from emphysema for many years of his life and was on strict oxygen regimens for the last ten years of his life. After he died, my aunt Jane returned all of his oxygen equipment to the leasor.

Shortly after this transpired, my aunt Jane would go to bed at night, locking the arcadiate door of her mobile home with a lock devised by my uncle Walter that could not be opened from the exterior of the trailer home.

For three to four days in a row, my aunt Jane would awaken to find the door unlocked and standing wide open. Regardless of what she did to secure the door, in the morning it would be open.

Finally, she simply stood in the front room area of the trailer and said aloud, "Walter, I know you are still here and I love you too, but you must stop opening the door because it is scaring me."

After that, the door never was found open again.

Was he trying to get a breath of freash air?