After much discussion with those people closest to me, I have decided to make this a permenant page after all.  He has been a part of our lives for many, many years, and certainly  a mainstay. My African friend says, "You have a tall man standing over you in the spirit world."  Everytime I hear the song "A Thousand Years,"  I think of him.  This has been quite a miraculous journey between a living person and a ghost.  It's funny how I ended up back here in Texas again, for the third time.  I must say, there is no such thing as a coincidence--of this I am certain.  Being able to reconnect with all that had meaning to me before my life was blown apart, has been really wonderful.

 I know I'm not the same any more because I have evolved, learned, changed and aged, but my heart never deviates; what's inside is eternal.  


 During my years in Brownsville I met some seedy, weedy characters.  Out of the assorted lot, I met a fellow who had repeatedly told me how distraught he was over his father’s death.  I had what was a short and sketchy acquaintance with him and he turned into a ferocious enemy overnight.  He was deeply involved in the black arts as well as drugs and drink, and just the vibes from him alone were enough to suck the blood right out of your veins. I believe it was because he put me through such emotional, psychic trauma and suffering is one of the reasons I encountered a death connection. 

  [Even though it was really more horrible from my perspective regarding this event—more than anyone could conceive of, I really don’t feel like it was something that could have been avoided.  I have a better understanding why this happened to me, and I’m all right with it.  As they say…it is what it is.]

  Not long after I had known him, I had begun feeling a ‘presence’ following me and noticed an odd scent.  Sometimes it was the scent of something old that had been closed up in a trunk for 100 years or more, and other times it was the sharp, rank smell of someone sweaty, dirty, and tinged with smoke.

  I began to have strange memories of things—things that were not actually my memories at all, but those of someone else.  I ‘recalled’ places in Brownsville which I’d never seen and when I’d see these places, it was if it were a long time ago; in the 50’s or 60’s.  I had peculiar feelings associated with the places which I can’t begin to describe, [but since I have moved back to San Antonio, Texas in 2006,] I have had some more time to have a look at more places that I had visions of.  (I will interject here: Now that old bag is not shoving her nose in my business 24/7, I can have a life again).

  This went on for a very long time, then two years later a stranger appeared in my dreams one night and identified himself as “Raul’s father.”

  I was terrified.  I didn’t know what to think.  I thought it so—uncanny-- that I should dream of someone I’d never known, yet I had such a connection to him.  He came with two other spirits—a short, dark-skinned Indian fellow, and the grandfather, Pancho, who had blue eyes. 

  Through the years the spirit who calls himself “Melo” has come to me in dreams and I can still feel his presence most of the time.  He has delivered messages to me which have helped me to learn new things, choose a better career move, and messages which have saved my life on more than one occasion.

  As well, he led me to a religious medal he’d lost in the countryside years before his death.  It wasn’t 14kt white gold like I originally thought (when I took it out of the safety box after so many years—it was just a medal)--a ST. Jude medal with his name engraved on the back.  I found it under an old out-of-use railroad track somewhere between San Benito and Brownsville, in the summer of 1992. He asked me to look for this since 1987, but I had limited resources and transportation during the 80’s, so I had to come back.  It is a miracle it didn’t rust and fall apart; he must have lost in in the 70’s.  I cleaned it up with some ammonia.

  It hasn’t always been a good experience with him.  His presence was terrifying to me at first.  I could compare it to the same kind of dismay and emotional upheaval one would feel when meeting with an old lover from years ago—one you had abandoned.  Yes, it felt just like this.  He was very angry in the beginning; he kept telling me in many of the dreams ’he didn’t want to be dead.’  It was as if he wanted me to do something about it, or thought that I could.  I would wake up and say, “I can’t help you.  I don’t know how.”


  Over the years he has become a constant and welcome presence, and I’m at peace when his spirit is near.  In dreams he often takes me back to Brownsville, to San Pedro.  I affectionately call him ’Daddy.’

   He told me he died of complications due to diabetes.  Later, I found out most all of the details surrounding his death were true.  I won’t share any of this, because the circumstances were so tragic and devastating. 

  The regret that I have the most is that I didn’t tell his sister or his mother I had seen him. (The worst that could have happened is they dismissed me and just said I was crazy.  At least I could have tried.)  I knew things there was no way I could have known by any other means, I had drawings of his children when they were small, and other people he knew out there in San Pedro.  I think I could have proved my circumstance.  I believe he wanted me to talk for him, and because I was someone outside of the family who didn’t have any emotional cause to see him.  All I can is this spirit man really has a case to prove, and on his behalf, well…”boo,” guys. 

  He always sends me signs when he has something say.  It may be a newspaper clipping word appearing on my desk or someplace conspicuous, or phrases suddenly appear on my word processor, but the most signature thing he does which says “I’m watching,” is put someone in my path who is wearing a light green polo shirt.  He always appears to me in that shirt in my dreams, and even in a photo I took back in 1989 near the place where he died, a shadowy, ghostly form shows up in a green shirt.  I still have no idea about this, but he must have liked that shirt when he was alive. 

  From 1987 to 1993 I was friends with a cuandera in Brownsville who had known him.  She didn’t really say much of substance about him, just said he was “weird” like no one she ever knew before.  I didn’t know what to think.  I had gone to some other spiritualists in New York in the 90’s trying to really understand what my connection was to him.  They were all very apprehensive when the spirit would come through and most everyone was afraid of him.  At the time I was married, and my husband witnessed him standing in the doorway a couple of times.  Wherever I go, Melo always goes with me, and anyone who has known me well has had their lives touched by him, too, at one time or another. 

  When I dreamed about him, he seemed very intelligent and had a piece of knowledge on virtually everything, from what kind of chemicals were in the ground to medicines and herbs.  I started thinking: Something is very wrong here.  All of these people have marked him up to be this un-educated, dirty, scary guy and that was just not so. 

  Not being able to talk to the family made it a huge challenge for me to get to know him, but for a spirit of someone I never knew while living, he did a monumental job of leading me through his memories and places he’d gone until I did know what he was showing me all of those years was indeed, real.

  During the last few weeks I have been working on a new book specific to the lifetime experience I have had.  Often, it’s so difficult for me to find the words to express what transpired, from when it all began as a dark, chilling presence to what has become of my life illuminated by a spirit and the gradual unfolding of the life he lived.  I don’t know when I will have this work published, or if it will be one of my ‘legacy books’ to be published after I am gone and the proceeds going to something special.  I need to decide this later, but in any case, it has been a true, heart-touching adventure of both human and spirit world connecting across the boundaries of life and death that warrants nothing less than to be preserved somehow. 

  After years of searching, I was finally able to get a number of photographs of him—more than I could have ever hoped for—one of which hangs in my bedroom next to my bed. I cherish these most passionately and with all of my heart because it took me so long to get them and I looked so diligently everywhere.

 He still has a lot of mojo—everyone that comes by my apartment loves this picture; he’s not scary or weird, and we all love him—well…except for my roommate, whom he likes to poke in the back whenever he comes in my room! 

  I know more than I did 30 years ago, but I still don’t know all of the whys and how’s of my connection to him, but he must have been someone I loved very much on some level in another time, another place, and I still do.  I just accept this, and I’m happy with it. 

  For some reason, the cuandera, woman I was friends with who had known him--did not want that spirit communicating with me or through me.  I think she had some kind of dirty plans for who knows what, but someone took a shot at me at cemetery the first time I went to see his grave.  I will say this:  She took what was one of the most sensitive, emotional moments in my life and tried to turn it into something black and horrible.  They tried to kill me right over his grave.  I won’t forget that as long as I live.  I hope these people take their vitamins and keep well so they can live as long as they can, because when the bell tolls, man are they going to have some answering to do. Amen.

  Anyone who has had an otherwordly encounter or experienced something spiritual in life may be able to relate to how I have been given an insight to something really meaningful and wonderful.  My life has been touched and blessed by a ghost. 

    He saved my life at the cemetery that day--I was knocked down before the shot hit me.  I believe with all of my heart he protected me from junior, too.  He kept him far away from me so I didn't have to suffer any more emotional abuse. 

  And one more word from him: He says, "Don't dwell so much on the fact I died, but remember the better of it: I lived, once."