Spirits

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.