Priests and Sausage
Well, I am sure I will be in trouble for that one.
On Saturday we all went to Brad’s apartment to leave flowers and say a prayer for him. Mom has gone every year, Mari has gone one year, and I have not made it once. I was pretty nervous about going back there, I really wasn’t sure what it was going to be like.
I first must explain a little history behind the whole thing about going this time, since it has a lot to do with how everything turned out.
A few months ago I mentioned to Mom that I had this fear that Brad could be trapped in his apartment. I don’t know if I really believe in all of that stuff, but enough TV shows and I get worried that if it is possible, I don’t want him stuck there. I know it seems silly, but just for a minute imagine what you would think if it was true and for all of eternity, Brad was stuck in a Chicago apartment that probably sees renters come and go like flies on shit . C’mon, cut me a break here! All I know is that I wanted to find a way to be sure he wasn’t stuck there.
Mom knew a lady and her husband (Hispanic) that she talked to and I guess, from what I understand, the Hispanic culture believes very much in this possibility and they have a ritual of prayers or something they can do that helps a soul move on after they have passed. So here we all are on Saturday, at the door to Brad’s old landlord. These people treated us so good that day, soooo good. Of course they remembered us and invited us all in and thankfully we had Mom’s friends Rafaela and Elias with us so they could explain this whole thing to them. If the apartment was empty, we wanted to get in it or we planned on just being in the hall or out front if we had to but we wanted the landlord to know what we were doing.
So after the whole explanation and some discussion back and forth, the landlord tells us that oh no, he prayed and prayed and they did everything and Brad is not there. He “Is at peace” he “Has moved on” ”we would know if he was here” they were saying. So what they said was that if he was still there, they would know. They would hear noises and things would be going on. They would know if he was there. He said his wife has been up there plenty of times and she is not scared and she hears nothing. She has even been up there at night, and nothing. He is not there. Of course we are all crying, even the landlord’s wife, and my tears were pure relief, complete and total relief. When I understood what they had done, I just ran across the room and hugged them both and thanked them. I am so grateful to them. We are all so thankful to them. He turned to Mom and looked at her, he put his hand on her arm or shoulder or something and said to her “Don’t worry, your son is ok. He is not here. He is at peace, he is at peace. He is Ok. Your son is ok.” He looked at me and said “Your brother is ok, he is at peace”. This weight lifted off of me. This heavy feeling in my chest, this heavy feeling on my back I carried around worrying if he was stuck there, it’s lifted like fog. I don’t know why I put so much into the words of that man, especially about something I am not even sure I believe, but I did. His words healed a part of me.
After all this Spanish and English and tears and hugs and everything, we did find out that there was a priest from the church at the end of the block that had come down and blessed the apartment and the stairs and the building and did the whole ritual. The landlord also has mentioned that he had been seeing the flowers my Mom had left outside every year and that until last year he really never knew what they were for. I guess one year he thought some boys had left them for the pretty teenage girl on the second floor so he brought them up to her. Boy I bet that made her day! Thinking boys left flowers for her. He said that there were people living in the apartment so we could not go in, but he would put the flowers in a vase for us and put them upstairs. That was really nice, usually they are sitting outside and probably are gone in a couple hours after we leave. So this was nice to know the flowers were going to be indoors and they would be there as long as they lasted, maybe longer.
Ok so this is going well. We feel good now, I have survived my first trip back there, and we are now going to go see the priest. At the very thing we wanted to thank him for what he did and maybe he could share a bit more of what they did and when. Because of course now I wonder if they kicked Brad out of there the same day he stopped to see me and Mom. Hmmmm. Food for thought. Speaking of food, don’t worry I will get to the sausage part.
We sent Mom’s friend Rafaela and Elias on their way with many thanks and start walking down to the church. I am thinking this should be interesting and while I am walking I am picturing this heavyset older man, gray hair, very intimidating looking, making me feel like I am going to hell for not going to church myself, and he did this all with his eyes within 15 seconds of standing in front of him. Ok well, this is what I imagine. Much to my surprise (and relief) the priest comes walking out, eating a banana, and I bet he weighs all of 120 pounds. Tiny thin man, maybe only a bit older than me. Yay, take away most of the intimidation and trade it for a handful of weird. He is chomping away on this banana and proceeds to tell us, in between bites, that yes he does remember the whole thing and that they had called him because they were hearing noises and stuff and they were worried. Ok, the landlord skipped that part. But in any case he told us yes he remembered and then he asked us if we would like to go across to the church, light some candles and we could all say a prayer for Brad. Sure we do, it couldn’t hurt. Well he asked us to wait a minute and he went in and came back out with this white paper bag. We are out on the front step of a rectory, so the whole thing is weird anyhow. But he has this white paper lunch bag and he proceeds to tell us how he gets so many gifts at this time of year and it is too much for just him and as he is talking he reaches his bare hand in this bag and starts to pull out
A sausage!
And like a magician pulling out a handkerchief from a hat, he just keeps pulling and pulling and pulling, and talking, and next thing you know he is holding up this three foot long giant sausage with his bare hand and asking us if we want it. Ok, now I am weird about food and germs and expiration dates and stuff, and here is a stranger, holding up food with his bare hands, asking me if I want it. And it is not just any kind of food, it is a three foot long sausage that looks like it has been sitting in a closet for the last 5 years after spending two years prior to that in the sun. Oh my G*#. (Sorry, wrong sentence to actually spell it out) Ok, well sure, yes, I would love it. What the hell else was I going to say? The poor man (with hopefully clean hands) explained that he has so much from everyone and he can’t eat it now anyhow and so on. I don’t know, it is just weird. It looked dirty, and he is a catholic priest, and he has never been, married, and all these things just come into your head and the whole thing is weird. Touching it with his bare hands and then me taking it with my bare hands and we are trying to figure out what to do with it and ok, well, yikes. We will remember this one for a long time. Thankfully I had a bag in my pocket from the flowers so we didn’t have to carry it around, looking like it did.
We went and did the prayer and candles and it was nice. So we thanked him and left. I tell you what, we laughed and joked about this whole thing all the way home. My poor daughter is probably wondering why it is so funny, but that was funny. I swore though, I was not even considering tasting that filthy looking thing. The whole thing was just creepy and disgusting and I get food heebe jeebe’s very easy.
I have to say, on a day that I planned to be sad and depressed and leave there feeling terrible with flashbacks in my head, it turned out totally different. We left on a good note with a good feeling and it was nice. So far this year, it has a much more upbeat feeling. It will never be good, and it will always just pain me to the core. I am changed for life, but hopefully, Brad is happy, that at least these past few days are better than expected. Don’t get me wrong, I have completely lost it, down to my knees lost it, a few times lately, but overall, there is a better feeling in the air.
I miss my brother. Don’t try to get me put away, but I truly truly do not believe he is gone. My gut still thinks he is coming back. How the brain can actively say one thing and know the opposite is beyond me. But I can honestly say, my self does not believe it, cannot process it, and it probably never will. When I look at his pictures, I hear the voice in my head that says he is gone, and then I hear, and I mean I HEAR a voice say to me – it is not possible. It is not possible. I really think there is a defense system in my body that is state of the art.. I can honestly say, it is not true and it is not possible. I bet I would pass a lie detector test if you asked me if I truly believe he is gone. But, I know he is, I have the proof, I saw him. So explain that one.
Oh yea, and explain to me how that sausage was probably the best sausage I ever tasted!
Comments
marianne
But, imagine Brad's reactions to a Catholic Ceremony
Thu, 04/28/2011 - 2:13pmI've got to wonder, how on earth would Brad feel about having a Catholic candle lit for him. And a priest saying prayers for him.
In between laughing and making crude jokes about a priest eating a banana and handling his sausage, Brad would be mad as hell that we imposed a religion on him!