Left Monday to my mother’s home in College Station, Texas. Later on in the evening, I had supper with my mother, sister, brother-in-law, nephew, his wife and their two young sons – Thomas & Alexander. I truly enjoyed spending time with them especially Alexander.
A few days earlier, my Mom asked me if I could drive her to Mission, Texas so she could place my father’s cremated remains at Valley Memorial Gardens. I found it strange that God had orchestrated this trip during my Sabbatical.
The plan was to get up early on Tuesday and drive the 8 hours to Mission, Texas. Unfortunately, during the night my mother became ill and could not accompany me on the trip. My Mom was devastated since hotel reservations and cemetery funeral arrangements were made and could not be refunded within 24 hours. She attempted to negotiate with the hotel but they flatly refused to refund her money. Therefore, I offered to make the trip on her behalf so she wouldn’t lose her money.
My Mom mentioned shortly thereafter that she had heard a clear voice calling out her name early that morning around 3:00 AM and thought it was me. She even walked towards my room but realized that the door was closed and I was sound asleep. I assured her it wasn’t me because I would have never called her by her first name. I believe it was my dad trying to communicate with her!
My dad passed away in late August and was cremated thereafter. My sister took half of my Dad’s cremated remains in early October to Kentucky to be laid next to his parent’s graves as he had requested on his death bed. My mother insisted on holding my Dad’s remaining ashes at home until she died and was placed to rest. As several weeks went by, my mother created a small altar at home around his urn which greatly concerned those around her (friends, neighbors and family) because they thought it was sacrilegious. I elected not to pressure her and to honor her wish sensing she needed some more time to process his death. To this day, I believe my Dad was trying to let my mom know early that Tuesday morning that it was time for him to be laid to rest? All I know is that it felt oddly strange?
I left my mother’s home and after traveling for several hours, I checked in to the Embassy Hotel & Suites in Mission, Texas. I decided that evening to venture out and enjoy an order of Patos (carne guisada tacos with cheese) from one of my childhood favorite eating place-Mrs G’s Tacos N More which was formerly known as El Pato Mexican Food before Mrs. G sold it to a private investor who extended her 6 humble locations to over 14 locations throughout the Rio Grande Valley. El Pato is recognized as a rite of passage in the Tex-Mex culinary world and has been written several times in Texas Monthly since 1986.
Greasy but, irresistibly tasty!!!!!!!!!
Early Wednesday morning, my Dad’s cremated remains were placed deep inside a single ground space that my parents are expected to share next to other deceased family members. My mom being a devout Catholic plans to be buried in a traditional casket and placed above his cremated remains.
Their was no one available to officiate the burial so I decided to read the Twenty-Third Psalm out loud, the Lord’s prayer and a Prayer for the Dead that I found online on my I-phone. It felt strange witnessing the burial of my father on my own. However, I felt a genuine sense of peace after the funeral.
Afterwards, I decided to go to San Juan, Texas to the National Shrine – Basilica of Our Lady of San Juan Del Valle.
The statue of Our Lady was humbly displayed inside a much smaller church next to the new larger Basilica several years earlier. It was rescued by Father Patricio who coincidentally married my wife and I thirty three years ago (which also happens to be Christ’s age when He died).
My recollection from talking to Father Patricio was that a small private airplane intentionally plowed into the smaller church as an apparent suicide causing lots of destruction and a blazing fire. Father Patricio was performing Mass and personally rescued Our Lady from the blazing fire. He mentioned that no one inside the small church was hurt thanks to Our Lady’s protection!
As word traveled of the miracle that day many devout Catholic’s started pilgrimages to the small church requiring a much larger church as time went by until it became a national shrine. Father Patricio passed away a few years ago and chose up to his death not to take any credit for saving Our Lady from the blazing fire that proceeded from the airplane crash. It was truly an honor to know this humble man of God!
While I was at the Basilica, my mom called and asked me to follow up with another family friend, Father Lee Acosta who unbeknownst to me suffers from Parkinson’s.
The Basilica provides for their retired and sickly priest’s and I was allowed to see him for a few minutes. As I was leaving, I found it strange that God had led me to a Parkinson’s patient since I suspect my mother in law may suffer from Parkinson’s in the near future! My father in law suffers from Alzheimer’s and both are living with us since Summer.
I found the trip to Mission and my visit to the Basilica in San Juan strangely orchestrated by God. I prayed for many while I was there and even made a small petition to Our Lady on behalf of my sister who is fearful of becoming a quadriplegic perhaps later on in her life.
