My Path to God, Childhood. #5 Reality hit

My carefree days ended with my first report card.

"She scored thirteen in class", mother remarked, 

"There goes our family reputation of being first in class."

And that was a fact, most of my older siblings were top students.

I felt that burden of letting my family down.

It also earned me the nickname of "crackpot", a favorite term of the nuns.

I certainly earned that nickname, the day I went to view a dead body.

It was that of the grandfather of one of our classmates.

Her parents wanted a boy so much, they dressed her like one.

Her secret was uncovered when a precocious classmate watched at the restroom.

I stood at the entrance of the door.

The room was dark, I saw the form of the man on the bed and froze.

Mother told us, the family of the dead always have a pillow at hand when the dead lay in state.

If a cat chases a rat over the body, the dead person will rise and grab the person nearest to him or her.

And would not let go, their grip so strong, it is almost impossible to free the person.

The family would quickly put the pillow in their arms,

and they would go back to being dead.

I turned and ran back to school.

"When you go home, wash your face," my friend Clare suggested, 

She was the one who got me to view the dead body.

I did as she suggested. 

My older sisters came back from school and asked mother what I was doing.

Mother laughed, "She went to see a dead body. 

Her friend told her if she washed her face, the fear would leave her. 

She has been washing her face since she came back from school."

Washing my face did not work, I was not able to sleep for months.

During school recess, I recited rosaries till I was mumbling the prayers.

When dusk fell, fear and dread would grip my soul.

I suffered so much from it, years later when my grandparents died,

I made sure my younger siblings did not see their dead bodies.

One sister confessed she did look and saw the dead bodies.

It did not affect her the way it affected me.

Years later, I actually appreciated sitting with the actively dying.

And especially those who had just passed over.

There is something special about those moments.

There is no accounting for callings in life, 

that was a calling, being with the actively dying.