Dear Padhrino & Madhrina, and Other Beloveds Receiving This, 

In late May I received word that my father had fallen and hit his head earlier in the month and was in pretty bad shape. I learned that my stepfamily had been trying to reach me for weeks but due to complications with my phone service, hadn’t been able to. When my stepsister finally did reach me, she told me my dad had been in the hospital for a few weeks and had then been transferred to a nursing home. We spoke a bit more and I let her know I would make arrangements with my employer to get down there as soon as possible.

It took a couple weeks to get situated, and then I began the long trek to the suburban sprawl 60 miles east of LA where my dad’s been living the last 2+ years. When I arrived at the nursing home, I discovered he had been taken to the ER that morning due to sepsis from a UTI. He spent the next 13 days in the hospital recovering, and I stayed at a hotel nearby so I could visit and provide support. 

My dad has been diagnosed with mild dementia and the fall and infection worsened his condition noticeably. Even before the injury, he tended to forget that he had moved to Southern California and wasn’t just visiting. I remember talking with him on the phone sometime after they had moved, and he told me he was in Redding, where he had lived for over 50 years before he and my stepmom moved.

During our time together in the hospital, I helped orient him to what was going on. I facilitated communication with the hospital staff and answered his questions about where he was and who was who, countless times, with honor and grace. We looked at old family photos together. I brought him some of his favorite magazines to read. And my presence meant the restraints could be taken off his hands.

Each time I went to the hospital, I wore the same purple shirt…it works well over a t-shirt and has some nice low-key embroidery on it. I did this intentionally to create more consistency for my dad. (Also much easier than having to deal with a bunch of different shirts.) 

The other thing I did intentionally for consistency, for myself mostly, was to wear my rosary under my shirt every time I went to the hospital. Though typically reserved for Works and personal prayer, having it on gave me comfort and strength, and provided a tangible anchor for my purpose in being there. While I was not able to attend the opening of the Summer Festival, that evening I sat in my hotel room after spending time with my dad, and I felt the presence of the Work and of Tupinamba delivering messages to me. My eyes welled up with tears of gratitude for the blessings I received then and have been receiving consistently over the last 3 ½ years via CHLQ and Santo Daime.

At the hospital, there was a moment when my dad, having just woken up from a nap, said “I hear a voice in the distance yelling ‘Dad! Dad!’” He looked at me. “Do you hear it too?” We listened together as he looked out the window. “There it is again.”  I didn’t hear any yelling, but I understood.

My older brother drowned many years ago so he couldn’t be there in person with us.

“It must be Scott, Dad.”

During the Work yesterday, my brother showed up for me, too. His presence was tangible, and he loved what he saw and felt. He stayed for some time, even slipping into my body a bit to experience what he could from that perspective. (I invited him to, and he thanked me for it.) 

This was part of a bigger process of healing grief and family trauma, and I was glad to be strong enough, and supported enough by the Work, to invite in any unresolved grief I and also my dad might still be carrying about my brother’s struggles with epilepsy and his untimely death at age 31. I practiced breathing in the sorrow and breathing out love. I asked Divine Mother to comfort us, in whatever ways we can receive. I thanked Christ for being able to do all that.

I’m entering a significant season in my life, and ask for your prayers as I do what I can to support my dad, and my stepfamily, during this time. In order for my dad to return home, he has to be able to walk, at least with a walker, as their house isn’t wheelchair friendly. His doctor was optimistic but said it would probably take several months. We’re cheering him on and hoping for the best. For me the hardest part is that he is so far away.

Thanks to the Daime and this Beloved Community, and thanks to your leadership, and the Sacred Lineage before and with you now, I know more than ever that the far away is also very close. I do not take for granted the opportunity, even the responsibility, to be of significant influence, even from miles away, even without my dad’s conscious knowledge of precisely all I’m doing. My deepest bow as I seek refuge, healing and a place to do all that. I ask for prayers for strength, healing and clarity as we navigate through this time.

With gratitude,

Yours Truly,

Seriah