Do you enjoy a good ghost story? The mystery and wonder of the circumstances. The goosebump-inducing details. Maybe you're a believer who has had an experience of your own - or waiting for that day. Have you considered the underlying sadness that often accompanies these tales of the unexplained? Some believe grief over the loss of a loved one, like an arrow that has pierced through the heart, creates a longing so intense that you call the spirit world to you. Who wouldn't want to see that person once more, feel their presence beside them once more, or willingly go against all rational understanding just to heal the wound for that brief moment?And yet, here is a story about a spirit who doesn't let go. Doesn't it make sense that they grieve, too?
A pearl-colored glow dripped from the crescent that hung high against the black felt sky and seeped through the open window of the dark bedroom. It wasn't a noise or even one of those sudden jerks of the leg that yanked Isidaro from his pillow, or rather, rolled up pair of pants. The light must have done it. The light.
And now, across the room, Miguel lay frozen in his makeshift bed, frantically blinking sleep away for a clear view.
It had to be a dream. Or the moonlight playing tricks on their blood-shot eyes. The last few days had been terribly exhausting. Aching grief and worry reached unexpected heights at the funeral, less than eight hours ago. Yet, here she stood before them, the two brothers would swear upon her blessed soul the next morning.
Their sister, Emilia Llamas Macias, was a strong woman, orphaned at age 10 and shuffled around until she was of age to fend for herself. She married a musician, gave birth to 2 children who were six years apart, then was left by the musician to raise their children alone. Everyone called the older girl Pachita. The younger boy, born in 1903, was named Salvador. Years passed and Emilia enforced her strong Catholic views on the siblings. Pachita married, but Salvador grew into his twenties still without a wife or family of his own. He had moved from Guadalajara to Los Angeles when he was about sixteen years old and by 1929 he was a successful tailor with two or three employees. That was the year the stockmarket crashed. That was also the year Emilia was diagnosed with cancer. She died in 1930. Salvador was twenty-seven years old, and he was devastated. Family members worried and wondered about him - how would he handle the loss especially because he was a single man on his own? On the night of the funeral, Emilia's brothers, Isidaro and Miguel, insisted on staying the night with Salvador. And what they saw that night, no one spoke about until the next morning.
She appeared before them, dressed in the same cream-colored lace they had buried her in. A blurred, over-exposed photo version of their sister had appeared out of the moonlight and floated through the sparse room, past the brothers, straight toward her sleeping son. She hovered over Salvador's bed, creating a veil of light around him, then slowly bent down to gently kiss his forehead. He never budged. And he didn't hear a word about it until the next morning.
Pachita & Salvador with their mother, Emilia
Proof that your mother never really leaves you ;)
ReplyDelete