Sand
My Abuelito Teofilo passed away in 2002. I don’t REALLY know what year he was born but
he was at least 80 when he passed. I was
20. I would not consider us as having a
super strong bond but it was special in its own right. I was his first grandkid (that he knew of). My Apa & I inherited his birthmark on the
same spot on our backs. As a child I did
not understand why he always smelled like sawdust & rubbing alcohol but I
was happy to run to the corner store for him to pick up a pack of cigarettes if
it meant he’d spot me a soda (poured into a plastic bag with a straw). I didn’t understand why sometimes he would
yell & throw things at my Abuelita, Apa, tios & tias but I was happy
that he would visit & bring me cajeta & aguacates. He was a little scary sometimes. He was loud, was missing teeth & would
curse everything & everyone between swigs of a bottle he’d tuck under the
skirt of the couch. As I grew older I
realized that he was an alcoholic, a carpenter & an abusive father & husband
but I didn’t care; I loved him as he was.
It was easy for me because I never had to bear the brunt of his
demons. For my tenth birthday he crafted a kid-sized
vanity fit for a princess. It was
recently passed down to my youngest cousin.
He grew frail. I can
still picture him now, in a plain white v-neck undershirt, sitting with his
legs crossed & his arm behind his head over on the far end of the couch
closest to the TV. Chants of “JE-RRY! JE-RRY! JE-RRY!” bounced off the cinderblock
walls of his house while he’d mumble some obscenity in Spanish at the love
triangle on the screen. He’d always
stand up to greet me “como esta mi muchachota?” & I’d always stop him
halfway to sit him back down & slip him a $5 bill. I’d been working for a while so I’d kick him
down five bucks every now & then to enable his habit. Almost everyone else complained about his
vice but I knew he wouldn’t quit regardless of whether or not I gave him that
$5. He was always grateful & offered
a blessing. He rarely left the house but
when he did he’d be in a leather jacket & a newsboy cap. He even had a wrinkly old tattoo on his
forearm of a shield from when he was in the Mexican Army. Such an OG.
One day he quit drinking & smoking of his own volition…he died about
a week later. I wore my leather jacket
& poured some Sauza out for him that night.
I was mostly sad for my father.
I feel like he died right when I was beginning to understand
him & was starting to get the courage to ask him questions about his
life. I regret not making a stronger
effort to get to know him. I’d heard
whispers that he’d had another wife, a secret family from before he’d “taken”
my Abuelita when she was only 15. For
all I know he might not have told me anything but at least I could have
tried. A week after his funeral I had a
dream that he was at the foot of my bed scolding me & yelling “No sea
miedosa! Le voy a jalar las patas!”
which doesn’t really translate to English (“don’t be a scaredy-cat, im gonna
yank your feet!”) - it’s an expression used to convey the idea
of someone coming to haunt you in the
middle of the night - to tug on your feet while you sleep. Told you it doesn’t translate. -_-
Anyway – he did not visit me in my dreams again.
Struggle
Last September, after 5 years of trying to get pregnant
(naturally & with medical assistance) I miscarried at about 6 weeks. This is another story for another time but to
nutshell it, I did not take it very well. I was a hot mess for about a week & then I
drowned my sorrows in carbs, white wine spritzers & IPA’s for 3 months to
fill the new holes in my heart & womb.
I managed to get my sh** together by New Year & about a week into my
annual ritual of temporary sobriety (3-4 month detox from Jan-Easter) I went to
dinner with family for another cousin’s bday.
She was born on our Abuelito’s bday, January 8. That night he visited me in a dream again,
nearly 15 years after he passed. We were
in a dark room, I was standing at a distance & he was sitting in a metal
chair with a spotlight shining down on him.
In his arms was a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. He tried to turn the bundle toward me but I
couldn’t see her face. He was speaking
to me but I could not hear him, no sounds or voice were audible. I yelled to him: “EN INGLES O EN
ESPANOL?” (my grandfather did not speak
English). His lips kept moving but
again, I could not make anything out. I
yelled in English – “IS THAT MY DEAD
BABY OR MY NEXT BABY?!” and again,
lips moving but not a peep. Frustrated,
I asked him again with the same results.
I woke up in a fog. The dream
bothered me every.single.day, I
questioned what it was he was trying to tell me, what it could all mean &
how this would fit my Christian worldview.
Silence
Last week, while floating in an isolation/sensory
deprivation tank (another story, another time), I was drifting somewhere between
asleep & awake when I suddenly felt a warmth emanating from my navel. I can’t even really say for sure if my eyes
were open but I visualized an amber light hovering above it. Weird right?
Yea I thought so too - but I managed to roll with it & found myself
flashing back to my “Abuelito: the
baby-wielding mute” dream. I still
couldn’t hear what he was saying but in this version I stopped asking about the
baby because I already knew who she was.
A tear or two escaped me, and I found it ironic that it took a pod of
salt water for me to come full circle in my grieving process. I’ve read that “grief is like the ocean; it
comes in waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes
the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”
Soopernatural
I didn’t go into this situation deliberately seeking this
experience, I don’t know how to meditate & I’m certainly not on drugs. I tread very lightly when it comes to
exposing myself to alternative spirituality & other peoples’ energies because
it scares me & frankly – I don’t want to ‘feel’ their burdens
(demons). My faith in God is first &
foremost based on the Holy Bible, which states that we are not to add to or
subtract from the Word of God.
Therefore, I don’t believe that the Bible left out chakras or
hallucinations or meditations on accident.
BUT I do believe that our Heavenly Father gave us free will & the
Holy Spirit, which, when coupled with other spiritual gifts (perception,
servitude, teaching, encouraging, giving, mercy, etc.) can lead our souls on some pretty crazy
journeys, and nothing is impossible with God.
He created the heavens & the earth, He made it rain manna, made a
whale spit out Jonah, parted the red sea, kept David safe in a den full of
lions, He rose the dead – He sent plenty of people throughout the old & new
testament dreams & visions, who’s to say he can’t send us one now? Also, deprivation tanks have been known to
induce hallucinations, sooo there’s that.
In the meantime I’ve filed this experience in the box in my brain where
I keep aliens, the Bermuda Triangle & la chupacabra bc I just don’t know
& I probably never will.
Sarahi
I’ve asked God to take this sorrow from me in so many
different ways, too many times to count.
I’ve stopped asking for a baby. I’ve
asked Him to make my paths straight, to take away this desire to be a mom &
instead help me focus on all the other ways He’s blessed me. I’ve asked Him to help me be a blessing to
other people, and their kids, to help me figure out a way to serve Him by serving
others. To please help me temper this
vice so it won’t affect my marriage – this vice I inherited the predisposition
for from my Abuelito. Call it science or
subconscious, imagination or coincidence.
Call me batsh** crazy if that helps you make sense of it all – I don’t
care. All I know is late at night, after
I’ve said all my prayers, I’ve finally found peace knowing that my badass
Abuelito is watching our baby girl until God calls me Home & THAT is the BEST
gift I could have EVER received this birthday.
Phillippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which transcends all
understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
