The flight home was bumpy and Tuesday was never the same. She attended the bereavement meetings at St. Joseph Husband of Mary facilitated by the same lay chaplain who really helped her deal with the suddenness of death and the insidious nature of lingering grief receiving some consolation from the other widows who watched their spouses ravaged from the progression of any number of diseases slowly die.
His world became darker and darker. He was now afraid of being submersed into total blackness and sought out the chaplain for help. As he approached his home from above he noticed a peculiar radiance. His anxiety receded and he hung out in the aura of his former confidant and spiritual director.
Much to his surprise the chaplain felt his presence and even talked to him recommending that he go to the light. He was afraid and stayed put for months not even returning home to check on his family.
Finally one day the chaplain set a chair out in front of him and said please sit down, he complied and the chaplain viewing him through the prism of faith said: “fear knocked on the door, faith answered and there was no one there.” And then added if you want to you can remain with us as others have too!
He looked around he noticed he wasn’t alone as there were five, no six and now seven spirits from a small child, an adolescent and a family of three then there was the really spooky ancient warrior with a great presence apparently a guardian against the evil one commissioned to serve and protect his new best friend.
The economy in Las Vegas continued to deteriorate and eventually the chaplain and his wife moved to El Paso, Texas. As they packed the last truck with all of their effects the chaplain turned and invited each of the dead to join them. Each and every one accepted and moved that day from Nevada to Texas.
Upon arriving and settling into their new home overlooking all of El Paso with view into Juarez, Mexico the chaplain stood on the inlaid brick surrounding the pool and guest house and summoned him. He came forth and listened as the chaplain explained that he must now depart and set up his own home, a place where spirits could join him as his essence and light was intensifying and the dead needed help the chaplain couldn’t provide by escorting them to a safe place to wait until called home by Almighty God.
He understood and left that night venturing across the border into Mexico. The spirits of dead people where hiding everywhere even in the middle of the streets, the carnage of drug wars leaving many innocent deceased in their wake. He spotted the evil one with a torch inviting those willing to see the light to follow him. Not one complied and preferred the terror of total darkness over the loss of the souls for all eternity.
The prince of darkness approached him and he felt no fear. El Diablo sized him up and departed without uttering a single word.
He returned to the United States crossing back over the border, the watch tower tolled out four bells. He found a vacant home elevated just above downtown and moved in that early morning. He must have a plan to draw spirits to him and kindle their light penetrating into the darkness to draw out more of the dead confined to this nether world; his goal to radiate the brilliance of a thousand suns one ghost at a time.
He surveyed the house and read back into time when it was occupied by the Mexican Revolutionary General Pancho Villa. He noticed his own aura sparking from dim to shaded brilliance. He brought forth cash from his own private account and ordered a piano and a house cleaning. A note left of the front door for the cleaners and side door for the piano movers. Envelopes of cash waiting on the counter upon delivery or cleaning, the maids were magnificent especially the way they washed the windows then dried them with newspaper a view so clear as if the glass was invisible. He tipped them each an extra hundred dollars dropping it into their purses hidden under the front seat of their Volkswagen Jetta a mother and daughter they were in looks and work ethic.
The piano was immaculate and the largest one he had ever seen. He played vampire rehearsing his line: “I want to suck your blood” while laying on the pin block  and pulling down the top of the grand piano over him then lifting it up again practicing for Halloween and his first post death party.
He flew all over town hanging invisible spirit invitations in moss covered trees, in the cotton fields that produced the best stalks this side of Mississippi, the high voltage power stations where many souls huddled inside the concrete or wire fortifications remaining fluid and bright off the abundant electricity wasted in resistance from generation to transmission and the hotels where he found a young recently deceased prostitute named Josey hiding between the mattresses stuffed into a corner of the parking garage, Josey murdered by an outlaw from Wales.
She was elated to not be alone anymore and followed him home that very night serving as the chamber maid and conjuring up a breeze to blow the accumulated dust out of the house each day at midnight.
His energy and light grew stronger and he entered Mexico once again to extend an invitation to all those in hiding. This time the devil appeared again and challenged him but quickly retreated when two angelic forms appeared in the distance and behind but unbeknownst to him.
He hung Halloween spirit invitations in places known only to the dead and a few living like the chaplain. He then visited the morgues and morgues of old including the basements of hospitals where the dead remained huddled to each other pressed together to retain any appearance in translucence of light each one terrified of fading into the blackness.
His presence a blessing not experienced for some of the deceased for five hundred years. They eagerly accepted his invitation and slowly emerged after sunrise to move in the direction of the great gathering this coming Hallowed Eve.
Two days prior to the big event an apparition in the form of his wife; then a vision of her came forth and he traveled back to Las Vegas to the hallway of a hotel where she slumped against the wall just below an activated fire alarm her hand clutching her favorite rosary the one he remembered glistening in the sun from her rear view mirror as they departed Kansas City. She looked up and saw him bending over her. She uttered I’m sorry and died. He knew that the guilt not the pills and booze killed her as while grieving the loss of her husband she backed up and ran over Chad crushing his tender anemic frame and bicycle underneath the SUV. His death too much to bear so she checked into a hotel to self medicate the pain away. Hotel security then the medics arrived and he departed with a whisper in her ear that he would always love her.
Page 4 Randy Houser Sweet Home Alabama 2010.2
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