The first manifestation I remember

The cricket and my father

This post is also available in Spanish. Read it here

The first manifestation I remember had no lights, no extraordinary dreams, no great events.

It had the sound of a cricket.

My father passed away on July 22, 2001.

Shortly after, we moved out of the house where we had lived for so many years. It was a house that had grown along with our family. What began as a small space ended up becoming a home full of memories.

Among all the things in the house, there was one very special to my father: an old iron cabinet where he kept his tools. He loved it so much that, when he remodeled the house, he built it into a wall to preserve it.

For years, I heard a strange sound coming from there.

I always thought it was a cricket.

When we moved out and rented the house, I told the new tenants:

“If you hear a cricket around, don’t worry. We never managed to find it.”

A month later, I went back to visit them and asked:

—Is the cricket still making noise?

The young man answered something I never forgot:

—No, that wasn’t a cricket. It was your father. And it left with you.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask anything else.

I simply stored those words somewhere in my heart.

Many years have passed since then—almost 25, to be more exact.

And today, looking back, I think about that sound and that answer.

Perhaps some experiences are not meant to be explained.

Perhaps they are only meant to be remembered.

💙