By Edwin C. Mercurio
I am not the superstitious type, but trust me I believe we all have a ‘spirit’, or souls if we want to be specific for Halloween.
While North Americans celebrate All Souls Day with macabre images of the dead, skeletons, scare crows and images of the “Walking Dead,” and all things scary, Filipinos visit the graves of their departed loved ones bringing flowers, food and favourite music of their deceased kins. For many in the Philippines, November 1 is a time to gather the family and troop to the cemetery to light their candles and pray for the deceased.
But there are noteworthy events in our lives when parents and loved ones say their goodbyes via long distance travel in the speed of light.
When my younger brother had a fatal third stroke last September. I was awakened early morning after feeling a soft pressure on the side of my pillow. The feeling is akin to a spoiled younger brother wanting to lay his head beside you while you were asleep. A few minutes later my phone rung with my niece sobbing on the other line asking me to rush home to the Philippines before his dad expires.
With my elder sister in tow, we travelled to the Philippines and arrived on the 17th day of September . Our brother was comatose, breathing only thru the ventilator machine but his heartbeat and blood pressure were normal. The nurse told us that it seems he is hanging on waiting for someone to arrive. His eyes were slightly open and we both had the chance to hug and kissed him telling him that we have arrived and we love him so much. He looked worried when we arrived, but after we told him not to worry and we were there to take care of everything, he finally closed his eyes. His face lost that pained look and was more relaxed before we left for the night. He died three days later.
When mom died from an accident, I was driving my Pepsi-Cola truck in South Cotabato when all of a sudden an extremely cold feeling enveloped me. I stopped and asked two of my sales assistants to see if they can sense how cold I was. They described it as icy cold after touching both my arms and hands. Returning to our softdrinks depot after I finished my sales route for the day our district manager suggested that I call long distance to my siblings in Negros Occidental. I knew something tragic had happened to my mom that day before even knowing the details. She barely arrived for her long sought vacation from Canada that week.
A strange sound woke me up in the middle of the night when my father died. It did not occur to me at first that what I was hearing that night in Lake Sebu was the sound of street cars until I came to console my sister and brother in law in Toronto where my dad stayed for so many years. Hearing the strange sound of street cars up two thousand feet above sea level in the lands of indigenous tribes of South Cotabato rattled me. I sat on my bed alone at home in the middle of the night and prayed, afraid and thinking that it was my time to go. As a writer defending and advocating for indigenous rights, I had accumulated the ire of land grabbers, cattle ranchers, mining prospectors, destructive logging firms and worse of all. stir a political despot’s hornet nest composed of the family of a political warlord, with his wife and son occupying top government positions in the province and Lake Sebu . I learned, first hand, from the driver and mechanic of the late congressman that a “priso caballero” was hired to kill me a week before I left for Canada. The plan was to kill the prisoner after his job was done to eliminate vital witnesses.
As a new immigrant in Canada, I tried to save enough money to pay for my apartment, food and other needs. So I usually spend my weekends scouting for bargains and garage sales.
My first encounter with souls “unknown” was not comforting at all. I was convinced by a close friend to buy a slightly used mattress. Her employer, who was a 65 year lady, she said, is selling her mattress. I went and saw the mattress. It was still wrapped in plastic and in pristine condition. Little did I know that the lady died two weeks ago. As I enjoyed my new possession, I was awakened one night by a movement on the side of my bed. I opened my bedside lamp to check. I was alone in my one bedroom apartment and figured I might have been dreaming. Three more nights passed, nothing. Then one night, it happened again. Even with all the lights on, my hairs all seemed to be standing up as I summoned my remaining courage to speak to the” unseen”. I stood up in front of my bed and felt like crazy saying in a repentant and firm tone, “forgive me, I didn’t know that this is your mattress, your caregiver sold it to me and I paid for it.” The next few weeks, I slept like a baby, but prayed hard that someone would buy my mattress after I posted it for sale at a nearby grocery store. I sold it at last and hoped that lady whoever she was might forgive me. I mean, both the poor buyer and former owner.
Another unexpected encounter happened after I bought a step exerciser. After losing almost 15 pounds of unnecessary weight, I longed to stay fit and healthy at all times. So off I went again scouting for things that would keep me fit like a bull. One day after visiting a friend on my way to my car, I saw that his neighbour was having a huge garage sale. After scouring for a bargain, I saw this exerciser. The guy gladly offered it to me for $12 canadian dollars. I grabbed the opportunity to satisfy my craving for fitness and asked the young guy why he was selling the almost unused item. He said it was only used by his dad for a few weeks before dying from a heart attack. I felt like returning the item but was ashamed to admit I now dread buying a dead man’s treasure.
At home, I used a disinfectant and polished the rubber portion. Both spring worked firm and stable but it made a thumping sound when one of the step shoe hit the floor. After giving it a try for many minutes, I went up to take a nap on our third floor. At first, I thought I was dreaming of an old man walking with a cane. But the “thump, thump, thump, thump” sounds continued in credence. Oh well, maybe the neighbours might be fixing something on their walls. When I went downstairs the sound stopped. The next few days, the sound would happen when everyone were asleep except me. After two weeks, I started exercising early morning and tried to step exercise faster. That was when I realized the sound I was hearing came from the young guy’s “bargain” exerciser. Every time the steps hit the floor it would sound like an old man’s cane.
I couldn’t wait for Goodwill Store to open the next day, Saturday. So, without hesitation I drove up early morning to the nearest drop center to donate my exerciser. I sincerely apologize to the unfortunate buyer and hope he/she sleeps well.
Happy Halloween bargain hunters…May the spirits treat you well***
