My Mom Said Son Is Smiling At Angels

My blog is named "Becoming Jacee" because even though I've been writing since 2007, I am still only 24-years old, and I still discover new things about myself daily.

You can call me odd, but then it's also your choice to stop reading my blog.

My Grandpa (my "Papi") died just days before Son was born. We are so close and I would easily refer to him as one of my best friends (did you notice I don't refer to him in the past tense?). I found out about his passing through a very rude voicemail and then sobbed so hard it felt like my eyes would bleed.

My cell phone became evil that day. It just kept ringing and ringing and ringing from unknown numbers and everybody wanted something from me. The attorney wanted to know who is paying Papi's unpaid balance. The squatter's that have already taken over the trailer wanted to know if they can have the trailer. The landlord of the trailer park wanted to know who is responsible for paying the monthly space rent (Fuck the trailer, I'm broke, go ask the squatters!). The person in possession of his dog that was left to me wants to know when I can plan on driving to Oregon and get her. Two people called wanting to know what was left to them in the will.

How can you focus on what's in it for you to gain when we've just had a loss? I explained to everyone that I am days away from birthing a baby that we know will be disabled, and everyone just needs to chill out when I can focus on this in about a week.

Finally, FINALLY, the phone shut up, and I was MAD at everyone who called and MAD at Papi. I was 9 months pregnant and this had just drained every resource my body had left, so I screamed AT HIM. I loudly screamed at him as if he was in the same room for 20 minutes. (HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME! YOU MADE ME IN CHARGE OF EVERYTHING AND I'M OVER 300 MILES AWAY, ABOUT TO HAVE A BABY, AND I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!!!! HOW DARE YOU DIE NOW!!!). In an emotionally charged fit of rage and despair of loss, I screamed at him so loud that I'm mildly surprised the neighbors didn't come busting through the door.

Something in me changed that day. Before you read further, feel assured that I am not crazy or hearing voices and seeing apparitions around my house. Now I "joke" that Papi lives at my house. Every time I mention it to someone new, it's like dipping your toe in the pool water, just to test how crazy they think I am. But in all seriousness, he won't leave us alone! Something about him passing over has heightened my senses with my desire to still be with him.

A few days ago, a nurse arrived for her night shift. She was physically alone, but as I glanced at her walking through the door, I just felt a man was with her. It's like that feeling when you wake up because you just sense that someone is staring at you. It was patriarchal and a friendly feeling, and as if I'd almost received the warm greeting of, "Hey, Jacee."

I stayed on the couch and before she'd even kicked her shoes off, I asked her if the name "William", or maybe more commonly referred to as "Billy" meant anything to her. (I'm grateful she didn't look at me like I'm crazy). She sat down on the chair close to me and said her grandpa "Billy" had just died, and that was her reasoning for being just a bit late. She cried when I said he's definitely still with her. (The nurses and I are not allowed to share phone numbers, be facebook friends, exchange email addresses, I don't even know her last name).

I sent her off to Son's room and that was that.

Just by looking at her, it's like I magically absorbed a wealth of knowledge about her.

On a different note, Son is usually hooked up to what's called an "oximeter". It monitors his pulse and amount of oxygen he's receiving. It alarms every time his stats drop below a certain level. The probe is attached to his foot, but any time he sweats or jiggles his little feet around, the sensor gets moved and sounds the alarm. Yesterday, he was sleeping in his room but kept wiggling and the loud alarm kept chiming. In a fit of frustration that this was going to eventually wake my sleeping baby, I turned off the machine, removed the probe from his foot, and headed back to the other side of the house with baby monitor in hand. Not too long later, (I should have been paying closer attention to the monitor),  I distinctly heard the alarm screaming again. I ran across the house into Son's room and he was clearly in distress, needing assistance. The machine was still off and not attached to him, but I know I heard it... Someone is helping me, but also enjoys pulling pranks on me. The light bulbs keep going out. Every straw I grab breaks. Most pens runs out of ink. (I usually grab 4-6 of each before settling back on the couch).

I used to call it just being intuitive, but I've changed a lot ever since Papi left his body. Now there are at least three extra people lingering around my house. When I gently ask the the spirits to leave my room before an intimate moment, whichever of our cats/dog are in the room seem to almost chase/follow them out. Maybe I do seek to find meaning in everything, or maybe there really is more than meets the eye.

(I wish I could charge them rent).