A Happy Foo Fighter Birthday

Posted on January 14, 2015 by curibe2014

Happy Birthday Dave Grohl from me, the family and my angel! As I mentioned in my previous post, the Foo Fighters are my husband’s favorite band on par with Metallica, perhaps they are his most favorite band now. As a result, our boys have grown up listening to, singing and now playing (second son fancies himself the future Dave Grohl playing the drums and guitar) their songs. I cannot say I have been a “fan”. I liked all of their songs just fine, they were catchy and the words I could understand (when he was not screaming) seemed kind of nice but since I’ve never thought of constantly nodding as a particularly good dance move, I never paid close attention … until after Gus passed away.

Even now when I listen to “The Best of You” it is Gus’ voice I hear belting out “Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you” but it was only recently that I heard this verse.

“Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
The life, the love you’d die to heal
The hope that starts the broken hearts
You trust, you must
Confess”

And although I included the following two Foo Fighter songs in Gus’ memorial video, I had never paid close enough attention to hear this verse from “My Hero”

“Too alarming now to talk about
Take your pictures down and shake it out
Truth or consequence, say it aloud
Use that evidence, race it around

There goes my hero
Watch him as he goes
There goes my hero
He’s ordinary”

or this one from “Times like these”

“I am a new day rising
I’m a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again”

Over the weekend we attended the Foo Fighter concert, I am convinced Gus wanted me to hear about as a birthday gift to his dad and I watched in amazement as people of all ages, cultures and walks of life congregated to listen to them play.

What a true gift to bring so many people together and fill them with such joy.

For you Gus…. Our Hero

Ghosts of Christmas Past & Future

Posted on January 8, 2015 by curibe2014

Another Christmas without you.

Christmas is especially difficult after losing Gus. Whereas I once relished the season, sprinkling cinnamon scented cones throughout the house, cramming every nook and cranny with a Santa or some other kitschy decoration, and draping the house in garlands and lights, for the last three years I’ve approached it as if I was ripping off a bandage from an open wound, quickly while holding my breath.

This year more than ever I felt like a Christmas spectator than a participant; as though I was out on a cold, damp, dim street looking through a window at a warm, happy party I could not join. Everything hurt me this year; the mention of the birth of Christ at church, the long lines of kids waiting for Santa at the mall, the request for two front teeth on the radio, and even the Facebook news feed that peppered me incessantly with pictures of kids I used to see regularly, older now, swathed in the colors of the season. Just setting up for Christmas was torture as each of the few Christmas decorations I had retained through The Great Purge held special meaning. The glittery cone precariously glued on its end gingerly placed on the coffee table had been carefully constructed by our oldest son in first grade, the beautifully framed splattering of green paint right next to it, a Christmas gift from our middle son in second grade, and on the mantle, a red, white and green construction paper garland that Gus made in kindergarten. But it was the Christmas tree that finally drew blood, each ornament we unwrapped and hung; the giant red, white and blue Mickey ears from our last family trip to Disneyworld, the ones that commemorated the kids births, the unbreakable ones purchased when Gus was a baby, the ones we picked up on epic trips around the country and the one we had made in his memory stabbed at our hearts until we were emotionally wrecked. For the first time in my life, I was Scrooge, face to face with the Ghost of Christmas past.

I thought December 26th would be better, if I could just power through the days leading up to and including the 25th, I could stop pretending to smile and smile for real, perhaps even take a breath. I nearly did or thought I had until the Ghost Christmas Future showed up growling at me pacing back and forth around the house between Christmas and New Year’s until I matched its steps and took on its persona. I used to race towards the future, I had a zeal for leaving things behind. I liked running away from mistakes, worries, circumstances, even people. I was the kind of person that tore up ex-boyfriend’s letters and pictures, that dropped the baggage at the door of the last year and stepped into the new year without hesitation. Since Gus’ passing however, I’ve had no interest in the future. The future no longer held any promise for me other than further loss.

I began wondering if I was a fraud. If I had ever believed there could be “upsides” to grief or if all of it, the working, traveling, reading, writing, “positive” mental attitude were things I was saying but did not really believe. The peace I thought I had gained was not real if it could evaporate by the changing of a single digit.

Sunday the 18th of January will be my husband’s birthday and while I hadn’t come up with a great gift idea yet, it seems that Gus had. Yesterday, I was heading home after getting a body wrap to squeeze the unwanted water from my pores when my sweaty hand hit the wrong button landing me on a radio station I rarely listen to. It was playing The Pretender (hmm) by the Foo Fighters so I left it there. All of my boys (husband and Gus included) are huge fans of the band and have been aching to see them in concert but the show this coming September sold out in seconds and now the tickets were ridiculously priced. Although I wasn’t really paying much attention to the DJ, I thought I heard him say that the band had just announced a “secret” or “surprise” show at the Forum on Saturday with tickets going on sale within a few hours. I scrambled home to tell my son who coordinated with his dad and by the time the evening was over they had secured a bunch of tickets for us and a few friends. Saturday is the 10th, a number of great significance to us as Gus’ birthday was the 10th of August and he was ten when he passed away. I choose to believe that Gus meant for me to get us to that concert as a present to his dad.

Without an ability to hold onto the past and with a fear as much as a reluctance of the future, I realize now I have been grabbing onto the present for dear life. While it is important to make the most of the present, to be “in the moment” precisely because we don’t know what lies ahead, it is a little like staring at your feet while walking. You are bound to walk into a pole. Life must also be lived with intention and intention is all about the future. While the ghosts of Christmas past may go by many names and hurt me each year they are released from their translucent graves, the ghost of Christmas future has a single name, peace. I can follow Gus to that future if I listen closely enough because in the end it will lead me straight to him. May you find peace in 2015.

Grateful for happiness?

Posted on December 5, 2014 by curibe2014

Thanksgiving Table

Thanksgiving was at our house this year and in a sense it was the most relaxing one yet. This is the first year I wasn’t stressed about making the turkey since taking over that duty from my mom, more than a decade ago. My sister and I have tried to make it a bunch of different ways but slathering a mixture of butter and herbs de Provence between the skin and the meat makes the juiciest most delicious turkey so we stick with that recipe. My broccoli gratin was made in advance and the rest was potluck so while twenty-eight of us would gather around the table this year, I spent the day taking a walk, watching football and generally just waiting for the turkey to be done.

Thanksgiving day was warm, sunny and stunningly beautiful. My California sycamore seemed to glisten in the sun even as the leaves dropped gently to the ground. It was the kind of day Gus would have been running around the yard, kicking at leaves, agonizing over how long much longer he’d have to wait to dive into the turkey. I imagined his legs, which would have been by longer now, draped over the end of the couch as we watched the football games or episodes of Twilight Zone. I imagined I would have been trying to capture the family Christmas card picture while none of the boys cooperated. I willed myself not to cry.

Each year, before sitting for dinner, we go around the room taking turns expressing something for which we are most grateful for that year. Over the years, this tradition has taken on a life of its own as I imagine all traditions do and going around the room has been taking longer and longer because everyone seems to want to make a speech. I decided I would limit everyone to a single word this year. To make sure we were all listening to each other, I would ask that each person first say the word just said by the person next to them before adding their own and that we try not to repeat any sentiment or object of our gratitude already expressed. It would be a wonderful exercise in listening and being concise.

As the time neared for me to start off our expressions of gratitude I wondered what feeling or thing I would choose and if I could mean it. Grief can be unpredictable and devious and so while I thought I had somehow learned to co-exist with it, it has turned around and poked at me with much more ferocity than I expected this year. I have been missing Gus terribly this holiday season. I feel constantly sad and on the verge of tears most days. Another holiday without him, another year gone by. I reminded myself that Gus would not want me to be sad or make others sad and so when it was time, I slapped a smile across my face and gathered everyone around the table. After thanking everyone for joining us again, I said I was grateful for happiness and I began to mean it.

Allowing happiness to enter into our midst has been as difficult as the loss itself. Being happy seems wrong somehow as though it is an act of betrayal or a sign that we are “over it”. There is no getting over your losses, I still miss my grandmother now deceased thirty years, I miss my grandfather, my mother-in-law and I can’t imagine ever not missing Gus but I have to make a choice. I can either to wallow in the sadness or bask in the sunlight of happiness. I choose happiness because that is the best way to honor my baby boy who was always happy even when he was sick. The truth is there is much to be happy about, lots of “upsides”. I have great friends, an awesome family, a wonderful husband and two amazing, talented, funny older boys. I have lost weight and feel great about myself. I have extraordinary parking karma, finding a spot near where I need to go even when the lot is full. I have a job a like and I am taking a shot at doing what I always wanted to do – write. I am finally in a book club through which I was introduced to incredible books and authors. We have been fortunate to have had many opportunities to travel this year. We skied in Utah, visited my sister in New York, cruised through the Panama Canal, partied in Vegas a couple of times and next week we will head to Seattle to watch the Seahawks take on the 49niners. We must be happy because everywhere we go, Gus is with us. Our most recent and obvious encounter with him was when we stopped in Cabo San Lucas at end of our family cruise. Of all the places we could have chosen to stop for breakfast we just happen to pick the one restaurant that is permeated by the image of a figure with outstretched hands in a sign of victory much like Gus’ memorial picture. Thank you Gus for giving us happiness by your life on earth and from above in heaven.

Gus’ memorial picture

Gus image on chairs

Gus image on base of sinks

Gus image on the window outside. Gus with his brothers again.

Silence!

Posted on November 13, 2014 by curibe2014

The Scream – Edvard Munch

Clink…..Clink…..Clink…..Clink…..

No really (hahaha), No really (hahaha), No really (hahaha)

Tap-tap-tap, Tap-tap-tap

Woohoo, Woohoo, Woohoo, Oe-Oe, Oe-Oe

I am being attacked by sound and no matter how much I tell myself that “I am the one giving the sounds meaning” or to “breathe and just ignore them” I can’t help but feeling like the man in the painting.

I toil away at my computer in a cubicle within a pod of six cubicles on the sixth floor of a mid-rise in the middle of Los Angeles. My station is at the corner of the southwest side of the building facing the window so that except for when the afternoon sun streaks directly towards me forcing me to close the shade, I enjoy an unobstructed view of the city. I begin the day by practicing gratitude. I am thankful to have a job, my view, my health, my family and for the the love I got from my little boy Gus. For a few hours every morning I am in a place of peace and euphoria and then the rest of the office shows up.

Across the way, separated by a few black file cabinets sits a nice enough man who drinks coffee from a metal cup that he clinks on his desk all day. In front of him sits a young girl who tap dances away the day; her feet tap, tap, tapping on the plastic mat under her chair. AND, next to me is a woman who either has friends with extremely scandalous lives or is easily surprised as far as I can tell by how often she says “no really and then laughs”. I accept that noise is part of the cubicle world and I am not troubled by most conversations or regular noises just these – they grate on me like nails on a chalkboard.

Having survived work, I drive furiously to the gym where I work out my grief trying to leave it and these petty annoyances behind in a pool of sweat. That is unless “woohoo” girl shows up like she did last night. Then I am subjected to “woohoo” or “oe-oe” every few minutes for the hour spin class. I spent that hour yesterday fighting the urge to just get up and go, telling myself that “she” should not get to disrupt my workout. The question is, why am I so annoyed by these particular noises? Why did woohoo girl sit next to me in a room full of empty spin bikes? Why am I suddenly so bothered by noise?

The house was empty and dark when I got back from the gym last night and with my husband out of town and the older boys getting home much later I knew I had nothing but time to be alone in the silence. I thought about what it would have been like if Gus was still around. The two of us would have been together and while I made dinner, he might have been playing x-box in the living room. From across the house I would have heard him “woohooing” at his kills on Call of Duty. Then, when I called him for dinner, his scooter would have “clinked” along as he rode it from the living room to the kitchen. While we ate, his feet would have been “tapping” under table as they so often had and we would have gotten into “no really” wars as we told each other about our day. I realized suddenly, why of all the noises in the world these in particular got to me – they all reminded me of Gus. It is then that I understood what A Course in Miracles meant when it said that “you are never upset for the reason you think” , it was not the noise or the people I was upset at but the loss.

As a sit in my cubicle this morning, the noises have subsided or at least I am not as focused on them today now that I know what they mean. At the very least I don’t have the urge to put my hands on my face and yell “silence!” At least not yet….

Dia De Los Muertos

Posted on November 5, 2014 by curibe2014

I have long thought that it is a miracle that the vast majority of us are born perfectly fine and live well into old age. Somehow billions of cells (I have no clue how many cells are actually in the body but it seems like a lot) combine to form perfect human beings with the correct amount of toes, fingers, eyes, ears and limbs that usually function pretty well for an amount of time that defies explanation. How does a nose not wind up in the middle of your body or an ear on your elbow? Why can one person who smokes like a chimney live and die of old age while another person who never smoked die of lung cancer? I am grateful for the eight additional years we got with Gus by the efforts of those who fight to cure cancer but I often wonder if we don’t struggle too much to hold on to our youthful lives as though continued medical intervention and making our faces and bodies appear young will somehow fool death into passing us by. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t welcome death, it is tragic and painful but only for those of us left behind, the souls of our departed are in the spirit world without pain or worry.

The Dia de Los Muertos is not intended to be a somber reminder of loss but an affirmation of the cycle of life so we can live it with more meaning and awareness. Elaborate altars are built for our departed in their memory and to lure them back to us with offerings of their favorite food and drink in deference to a belief that the soul lives on after death. Since Gus’ passing I have adopted this tradition in earnest, building an elaborate altar which is up from the beginning of October to November 2nd and hosting an ever growing party at which our family and friends add pictures of their loved ones to our altar. The result is that although Gus is still the main star, he is now surrounded by many angels. I am profoundly grateful for this tradition as it has become a wonderful way to give thanks to our friends and family for their support and share the joy of life as we remember all of our loved ones together.

My grandfather loved the following poem by Amado Nervo. He would recite it at the top of his lungs at family parties when I was young.

“At Peace”

Very near my sunset, I bless you, Life because you never gave me neither unfilled hope nor unfair work, nor undeserved sorrow. Because I see at the end of my rough way that I was the architect of my own destiny and if I extracted the sweetness or the bitterness of things it was because I put the sweetness or the bitterness in them when I planted rose bushes I always harvested roses Certainly, winter is going to follow my youth But you didn’t tell me that May was eternal I found without a doubt long my nights of pain But you didn’t promise me only good nights And in exchange I had some peaceful ones I loved, I was loved, the sun caressed my face Life, you owe me nothing, Life, we are at peace!

May we all find peace in and with our lives…

2012

2013

2014

Gus you are forever the source of my joy!

Spirit knows best

Posted on October 16, 2014 by curibe2014

As seen from the couch.

Last week I got uncharacteristically sick. Oh, I get a cough and sniffle occasionally, but I don’t get dropped to the ground by viruses and bacteria, I am too strong for those pesky micro-organisms, or so I thought. Despite attempts at visualizing myself well, something or likely everything turned me into a body aching, feverish mess that did nothing but lay on the couch. I am a terrible patient because illness makes me angry. I growled around because I had things to do, books to read, ideas to write down, and I had a great party to go to on Saturday that I had to miss! I had no choice but to do what any normal terribly sick person would do – watch T.V.

On my worst “sick” day, one of the cable channels was playing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and I watched it sideways from beginning to end. At first it reminded me that I planned to start reading the series to Gus when he turned eleven. Up until then, he’d only dabbled in reading, a Percy Jackson novel here, a partial try at the Hunger Games there, and he picked up the middle book in the Lemony Snicket’s series (who does that?) and quickly put it down (phew!). Reading bored Gus or as he said “it made his eyes tired”, the only thing he every really got through was the Diary of a Wimpy Kid, the Bone graphic novels and anything that I read to him. That fall was going to be different though, I had great aspirations, no more graphic novels, no more tired eyes, I would lead him to the Harry Potter holy grail and he would love to read on his own, I’d done this before. As I drifted towards sadness a new thought gripped me, the good world had spared me from marring an otherwise wonderful memory.

The Harry Potter series is a cherished memory from a time before Gus. Back then, I had two little boys, oldest aged 10 and little one 8, who didn’t bother to dabble they just hated reading. I picked up Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone out of desperation. I declared it a new nightly ritual to replace the half hour of cartoons they were allowed only if and when they finished their homework. The first time I picked up the book, they nearly fainted from the idea that they would have to sit there while I got through the very thick book. To distract them from its length, I offered to limit the reading to a single chapter a night. They leafed through the book and seeing that the chapters were not too long reluctantly agreed. Within a week the boys were asking for “just one more chapter” and then moaning and groaning because I had to close the book for bed time. We flew through the first three books this way and then had to wait a year sometimes two for the next one. It was a magical time although it wasn’t until the movies came out that we realized I read some of the names wrong like Hermion – instead of Her-mi-o-ne (sorry I’d never of heard of that name) and Hay-grid instead of Haa-grid.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was the first book they wanted to read on their own. I bought several copies of the book and we each read our copy sprinkled around the family room. We read the next two books the same, discussing it at the dinner table and teasing each other with the next surprise. The boys were in the middle of high school when the last book was published and they read it at Boy Scout summer camp while I read it at home. I was sobbing when I closed the book but not because of the book but because I knew my time with the boys was coming to a close. They would soon be off to college and the rest of their lives.

It is tough to bridge back to happy memories when everyday is a reminder that we are making new memories that Gus is not there to share in. Particularly difficult however, is to go back even further to the time before Gus as though failing to limit my memories to only the time with him is some kind of betrayal, but as I lay there watching the movie I was grateful to the Spirit for keeping the Harry Potter time safe from the sadness of loss. The Spirit always knows best…..

Fall-ing

Posted on October 4, 2014 by curibe2014

Southern California is not known for its changing seasons but they do. Like anyplace else, even here the Fall makes things fall. The sun is lower on the horizon, the trees begin shedding their leaves, and even the temperature begins to lower so that we have to pull out a sweater in the evenings, possibly even a jacket (it’s true). It was always my favorite time of year.

Last Halloween Haunted House 2010

It meant going back to school, soccer, football, haunting the house for Halloween, the smell of spiced pumpkin for Thanksgiving and the coming of Christmas. Our house was transformed each fall into a seasonal wonderland beginning in September. I knew it wouldn’t last. I knew that eventually all of my boys would grow up and fail to see the charm of my decor. It had already started to happen, the older boys grumbled more when they had to help with the boxes, they walked by without noticing the new skeleton in the corner or the new cornucopia on the table. It didn’t matter to me. I still had Gus, he was only ten and still loved every part of it. Then Gus died and fall fell from my view. I’ve purged the house of every seasonal trinket now, the last of the table top displays going out just two weeks ago, but fall keeps coming. It came the year Gus passed, it came again last year and it is here now. It just keeps Fall-ing.

I hate this Fall more than the last two because I noticed something about myself that I didn’t expect so soon. I’ve become used to Gus being gone and I hate it. I still think about him the entire day. I am reminded he is around me whenever I hear the songs we played for each other, like this One Direction song he used to play over and over. I got dressed up this past weekend for a friend’s 25th wedding anniversary and it was playing in the car as soon as I entered. I knew then he liked the way I looked.

And whenever I hear The Wanted’s – “I am Glad you came” I know he is around me. I used to sing this song to him on our way to the hospital every day. Last year we were in Vegas for my brother-in-laws birthday and of all the clubs we could have gone to that weekend we just happen to pick the one club at which The Wanted was appearing. We were arms distance from them when they performed this very song. AND, for my birthday this year, the song played everywhere I went. Even when I stopped at the supermarket, I found the produce guy singing along to it as it piped in from overhead. He turned to sing it to me as I walked by him.

While Gus still fills my thoughts, I am used to not picking him up after school, not taking him to soccer practice, not helping him with his homework, and not coordinating all of his extra curricular activities. I am used to his physical absence and the silence that follows. At times, I look at his pictures on the wall and wonder if his presence was ever real. It is as if he was only ever a beautiful dream from which I’ve finally woken up from, instead of the nightmare my life is without him.

I get up everyday and go to work, I go to the gym in the afternoons and then I come home to watch to our favorite shows with the older boys who haven’t quite left home. This year I picked up cross-stitching again as I watch the NFL on Sundays. From my chair next to the window I can see that the giant california sycamore in our yard is already dropping its leaves. Soon they will cover the yard all the way up to Gus’ swings which remain motionless. I appear to have fallen back into a routine, one I would have never thought possible.

I miss you….

Hummingbirds

Posted on September 26, 2014 by curibe2014

Hummingbirds are not a strange sight especially in California where the weather is warm and all the native plants seem to have been created just for them. And yet, these little birds have taken on a new meaning in our lives recently.

Just a week before Gus’ untimely passing, he celebrated Father’s Day, with his grandfather, dad, brothers and cousins at the local trap range. No, we don’t have a shotgun at home, but yes my husband taught him to shoot one a few days after birth (o.k. a little later), a carryover from the family roots in the mid-west. With Gus gone, the trap range was the last place my husband wanted to ever visit again. This place where he’d spent much of his youth with his own father was now the last place he’d been with his son and he was afraid the grief would overwhelm him. We’d made a commitment though, to face our grief head on by going to those exact places, attending those events and being with those people who reminded us most of our time with Gus and therefore caused the most pain. And since my husband had already been to his school and even taken his friends to the Big Time Rush concert that Gus had been looking forward to, he headed to the trap range to meet his dad for dinner.

Parking at their usual spot, he looked out to where Gus had taken his last shot. He’d been trying to remember how many Gus had hit that day or if he’d hit any at all when he became aware of fluttering outside his window. The tree he’d parked under a thousand times before was swelling and contracting with the greatest quantity of hummingbirds he’d ever seen in one place. How he wished Gus could have seen it.

We knew nothing about hummingbird folklore at the time but the experience was such that my husband wanted to share the story with friends over dinner later that week. The four of us had begun as parents with children in the same class and ended up as parents with children in the same cemetery. They had lost their infant son to SIDS months before Gus and their eldest son started kindergarten. They shared that in the wife’s Korean culture, the hummingbird was thought to carry the soul of the departed. In fact, they said, a hummingbird had followed them around for days shortly after their baby’s death. It was a sweet to think that Gus might have been buzzing about his dad’s car that day and we joked that he’d needed so many to get his attention.

Since then however, the hummingbird makes a regular appearance every where we go.

After Christmas, on a short trip to Sedona, Arizona, “it” was in a store devoted to the work of local artists. I’d gone in there to clear my head after an emotional breakdown and come across a series of hummingbirds pictures which I thought would make a great gift for my Korean friend and keepsakes for us. I had forgotten my purse so I had to return the following day as we were heading out. The store clerk that day just happened to be the artist herself who was only there one Sunday a month and as it turned out had also lost her youngest son of three many years before. Meeting her was remarkable not just because of the hummingbirds but because I had been struggling with the concept of time, the idea of moving away from him as time marched on. She told us that the Native Americans believed that the hummingbird was a messenger from the “other side” and in a sense the hummingbird had brought me to her to confront the passage of time, like the hummingbirds had made their presence known at the trap range. It had been more than forty years since she’d lost her boy and while she still ached for him, the tears had slowly become less.

This spring a hummingbird made its nest on the mariachi hat of my wind chime on the back porch. Despite the many years I’d tried to lure hummingbirds with an assortment of specialized feeders, it was the first time one made our home its home.

Later, on a trip to San Miguel de Allende (Mexico) in May, this hummingbird mosaic found its way into my hands. Walking through an organic market, I met an American woman who’d moved there and then “accidentally” founded an art school for children, when children just wouldn’t leave her house after giving them pencils and paper. She was most excited about one particular boy’s art, “he makes the most amazing mosaics” she said. After assuring us that all proceeds went to the school, she asked if we’d be interested in buying something. Turning to retrieve the piece, she lost her footing and as I caught her and the multitude of pieces she toppled over, she shoved “it” into my hands. Of course a hummingbird.

Then, at my husband’s family reunion in Iowa this summer, one aunt had a hummingbird on her door while the other wore a hummingbird t-shirt to the reunion and finally on our epic family cruise, we came across a hummingbird drawn on a leaf as we walked ashore in Costa Rica.

Like the “Love You More” sign, drawings and bands we find when we least expect them, the hummingbird has become another sign that Gus is all around us…

Magical Gus

Posted on September 12, 2014 by curibe2014

Smile – I’m Fine

It occurs to me that we spend a great deal of time in life thinking about what happens after death. If the movies are any indication, we seem to have come to the consensus that the only way our spirits can linger on earth, if they linger at all, is as attacking, angry, torturing, evil presences. Otherwise the “good” spirits are supposed to have gone to the light where they roam about in vast fields awash in vibrant colors as the most beautiful version of themselves just waiting for us to join them.

It doesn’t seem fair that only evil spirits would have the power to make their presence known. Shouldn’t loved and cherished spirits have the power to conquer all including death? As a Mexican-American I believed the spirits of our loved ones are always there to guide us; we need only be open to the signs. In my own life, when I was most anxious, worried and afraid, I had the sense that my grandmother came to me. Just as I started thinking of her, her favorite song (a very old one) played on the radio or she’d come to me in a dream. But most often I felt her near me in the dead of night. I’d be jolted from a deep sleep by the smell of cigarettes (none of us smoke). The specific scent of her Lucky Menthols lingering far into me becoming fully awake.

The night Gus died I thought I felt his weight against my arm as though he had slipped into bed between us as he had done nearly every night since birth. I hoped to feel it again the next night and the night after that but the feeling never returned. I was beginning to think that it was only wishful thinking that had kept my grandmother around when we went to see AJ Barrera. The reading suggested a spiritual awareness though that was far beyond what I ever imagined. When we left, we resolved to be more open to the spirit, more specifically Gus’ spirit.

We left AJ’s house and headed to a Hallmark store for a gift. Since Gus’ passing we’ve walked into a million stores carrying those painted wood signs with inspirational sayings. We even bought the one with the quote by Wilfred Peterson, that says “Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it…” The sign we saw that day was different. It appeared like a personal message sent from above coming so soon after the reading. It simply said:

This was our thing with him. A nearly daily verbal war that was never resolved. He’d usually start with “I love you Mom or Dad” and we’d say “I love you more” and then he’d say “I love YOU more”, and we’d go around and around until something else diverted our attention. In typical Gus fashion he was getting the first word, foreshadowing Gus’ alternate presence in our lives.

For my birthday that year, his art teacher and a dear friend to me was wondering what to give me when she found this drawing he’d made on a rare day he was at school that last year.

My friend swears the box in which it was found had been emptied the previous fall in advance of the new fourth grade class and gone through a number times. She was shocked to pull it out as an answer to what I should get for my birthday.

For father’s day a month later, my husband and older sons decided to go golfing at the last minute, getting one of the last few tee times at a course they’d never been to. They arrived to discover that a fourth man had been added to the group who walked up to them and said “Hi, I’m Gus!”.

Then later on the Fourth of July, a day Gus loved because we’d spend the entire day at the beach lighting sparklers well into the night, we found this:

A band he’d likely made at his last cub scout camp out. Could we have really overlooked it each time the car was cleaned out for over a year until it appeared in time for one of his favorite holidays?

His prayer card (shown above) says “Smile. I’m Fine”. It is what he said to me each time he could see that I’d been crying. I tried desperately not to cry in his presence, but sometimes I could not help it, the tears streaming down my face as much in grief as in anger that my precious boy was in crisis again. AJ said Gus’ mission was to help us; to remind us to smile because we would be fine on earth as we are in heaven.

While I wish everyday he was here in the flesh, I am amazed at the many ways he continues to be present in our lives and how the spirit moves to answer and address the questions and concerns that affect our hearts.

Love you more……

Knocking on Heaven’s Door – Part Four

Posted on September 4, 2014 by curibe2014

Always smiling

I have no doubt that many readers will find a million ways our meeting with AJ Barrera was a complete farce. We are after all grieving parents eager for evidence that our son is not really lost to us. Even I can point to the many times we offered up unsolicited information. However, there is no way AJ could have known about the collie, the location of Gus’ memorial shelves in our house, the memorial plaque at his school (see below), that Gus would poke fun at his relationship with his oldest brother (see below) or that he would take credit for the music that fills his other brother’s life now (see below), not to mention accurately describing the personalities of all the other relatives that made an “appearance”. But the reading was even more than that, hitting nearly every aspect of the difficulties and questions we had not even had the heart to talk to each other about. For example, until the reading, my husband had been incapable of venturing into the backyard, especially where the wagon was hiding directly across from the swing set. It was there, at the bottom of the slide, that he and Gus had last spoken, having a heart to heart about life as Gus enjoyed the sun warming his bald head. For my part, I was wondering if he’d woken up on the other side disappointed that he was no longer with us. I could almost hear him say, “Aw Man, I’m dead…”. I worried that it was my fault for not giving him the stem cells sooner, that I had missed something that would have kept him alive. It gave me great peace to know there was nothing I could do to prevent it and that he had been in control of his leaving and was ready for his transition. We left the reading with the knowledge that Gus is not just in our hearts and memories but that his spirit is actually still with us – we only have to be open to the signs. Like our walk in Spain, our reading with AJ was trans-formative. Since then, Gus is as present in our lives as ever and we are practicing living each moment with more presence and openness. Life can be truly magic.

Final reading segment:

AJ: I might misinterpret this….is there….I actually want to drop it down younger. So I want to drop it down to your younger energy and I rather be wrong on it, but is there actually like a mural or either some sort of engraving or some sort of writing that you had done in honor of your son that I have to bring up here?

Us: Yeah..

AJ: Where is this if you don’t mind me asking?

Us: It’s a memorial plaque at his school.

Memorial Plaque at Gus’ school.

AJ: He wants to let you know…” thank you for honoring him and thank you for doing this” because there is a part of it that is written and it’s engraved and there is a part of it that he wants to let you know, it’s his way of waking up and being a legend because he is a legend on the other side because he is known on this side, there is like a superhero type of energy, that he is still strong and not fighting this but still the main guy on this side. Is there a reference to him like just being like honestly a character?

Us: Yeah..

AJ: Because part of it like he is making me feel like “I am not sick, look, I’m not sick”, part of it like I’m alive, I’m happy, I’m having a good time and his energy for me is about kind of making you guys happy and making you guys laugh because I feel like his energy, when it was here physically was kind of to make you guys happy and make sure mom and dad were ok, it wasn’t for you guys to make him up, you know what I mean? I feel like his duty was to assist you and help you guys out as well, he’s also bringing up for me, do you actually…and this will sound very unique, you don’t have his jacket with you do you?

Us: Not with us for today, no.

AJ: Do you carry his jacket around? Why would he bring up his jacket?

Us: His sweatshirt is hanging inside his room and I grab onto it every day.

AJ: He wants to let you know that “I’m there with you when you do that”, “I’m there with you”, because he is making me feel like I need to acknowledge the jacket or the sweatshirt he is identifying with you and he wants to let you know I am still there for that event, I am still part of your life, because his energy, again, he is alive, like spiritually, he’s like right here, my hair is just rising, he’s a vibrant energy for you guys again, it’s not about the medium it is truly about you guys of understanding of why he wants to come across to you guys, it’s about making sure that mom and dad are ok. They are also bringing up for me like when this energy….. did you say your mom passed on the fourteenth?

Us: Uh –hugh.

AJ: Then there must be another reference to this, because flag day is like June 15^th, so is there another significance to a governmental holiday, that I need to bring up for you guys?

Us: This morning, the cub scouts go put flags on all the graves for Memorial day.

AJ: Are you guys doing an event?

Us: I haven’t done it the last two years, today and last year but we did every year since he was born with him as a guy in a stroller, or as a cub scout.

AJ: Have a party for him, he is going to be at those events so if you are placing the flags, he wants to acknowledge that I will be there with you guys, so enjoy the moment, enjoy the time with him and even though spiritually he is around you guys even though physically he is not, there is part that he wants to let you know I am still a part of your life today as well, because when I look into you guy’s energy, he is making me feel like, you guys are a team, you are a whole, you guys are a backbone, so I don’t feel like one is weaker than the other I definitely feel like you guys balance each other where you guys are at, but his energy is like I just want to step forward and be this true energy for you guys as well. Why? Is there a weird reference…..do you guys have ties to Orlando? Like Florida?

Us: We took him to Disneyworld. I have some relatives there. We went there twice with him.

AJ: It’s something one step further. I don’t think it’s just Disney. Or two I need to call him by a different name. So would he go by like Dopey, Sleepy, Goofy or something like that? Is there a name that I am actually supposed to bring up here? To acknowledge him, or to acknowledge one of you guys? I feel like it’s a funny, haha, reference that he wants to acknowledge because I don’t think it’s just making the trip to Disneyland because I’d actually see like Anaheim but I feel like if you have ties to Orlando, then I feel like in some sense I need to acknowledge Disneyworld or maybe the name of something. There is something they want to bring up here, like it’s a name.

Us: We used to call his brother Grumpy.

AJ: That makes sense, his brother?

Us: Yeah.

AJ: Your brother?

Us: No, his older brother.

AJ: Still call him Grumpy. Let him know he is still Grumpy from the other side, because I feel like I need to acknowledge him, and need to acknowledge like the name the character, and was he close to his brother if you don’t mind my asking?

Us: Yes.

AJ: Because I need to acknowledge him in a joking way, like bust his chops and let him know that I still want to feel like the brother energy. But he is making me feel like he’s the better half though. So kind of like tease him with that, so he makes like he was known for that and even though parents don’t have like a favorite child, there is a part of him like he is the better one. So I feel like it’s his way of teasing him in a unique way because he’s making me feel like “I still have all the attention” regardless. So I feel like it’s that type of energy of how he wants to step forward for both of you guys, you know what I mean? And I feel like the energy of him is just to be funny. It is truly just to be funny and remember him how he was like today as well. Now is there a separate energy, like on you guy’s level that is like a male that is passed over? When I say your level I mean, brother, cousin, friend.

Us: No – we don’t think so.

AJ: If not then I might be switching over……. AJ does switch over after all this time to another person in the group but Gus was not done. After speaking to another woman for about twenty minutes, AJ turns back over and says…. Why is your son bringing up music? Was he a musician or why is he bringing up music?

Us: No. Our middle son is really into music all of a sudden.

AJ: Your son is bringing up music. Like he wants to let you know… like I am seeing musical notes. Like when I am talking to her, he just threw music at me. So I feel like it’s almost like he is not done, you know what I mean? So I feel like he wants to jump in so I feel like of how they want to jump in just to acknowledge the energy. They often do that just to get like the little messages across but I feel when your dad steps forward I need to acknowledge the signs and signals, so I feel like he is going to be inspired, like your son is inspiring your son now as sending the music across to him.