Visions and Spirits
This collection of compelling true stories from childhood of significant events and turmoil with surprising consequences. Hurdles and trials are parts of life but with strong will and determination I have persevered. I would like to preserve these memories of my past for the generations to come. Sharing these painful experiences turned out to be therapeutic and comforting to me, which helped me see new and improved ways of conquering life’s challenges. Every day I counted my powerful blessings.
The book also explores accounts of episodes of mysterious spiritual connections with a loving and profound intangible force, the amazing appearance of the Holy Spirit, the near-death and out-of-body experience, and an encounter with my grandmother from the afterlife.
These strange phenomena were so challenging to understand and interpret at the time, they increased my desire to write them down to share with others. This also include vivid dreams, premonitions, precognitions, and messages from “the other side,” also known as life after death. The interpretation of my dreams continues to baffle me. A large number of my dreams ended up coming true, and left me amazed.
How would you react when you see strange visions while fully awake, although it only last a few seconds, but your life could never be the same. Coincidences, hunches and premonitions are all lodged in my memory in a way that make it feel like those events happened only yesterday.
What would you do when you could sense straight away, a person in front of you was not telling the truth, an ability that I discovered very young. At times I would interrupt the person talking even before he or she could utter the lying words, and this might make them unkind to me. I could understand their feelings, as I believe that many truths are hurtful and embarrassing, especially when shared with people. However, it is always tricky for me to remain silent when I feel an urgency to act. I always wanted to prevent others from committing irreparable errors. Because of this, my childhood years contained moments of high stress, anger and disappointment.
I am not a saint, and I humbly admit I didn’t always do the right thing. God knows how many times I have offended Him, and I am asking Him to grant me His pardon. I know He is right and that I should live by His word. I am a sinner, and many times I lost my way. I always need His guidance not to be tempted to live in immorality and hatred or remorse. This is a lifelong process of genuine repentance that takes over my whole being, but may not be enough to bring peace to my soul.
It drove me mad when I sensed things that are yet to happen, such as the upcoming death of someone, even though looking at that person, nobody could guess that death was approaching. It is impossible task to tell someone about their coming death because I never knew exactly when, where or how. When I have a friend or colleague and foresee that he or she is passing away, I need to take distance. I fear telling him, scared of his reaction. This puts me in a dilemma, whether to inform the family of the forthcoming undesirable event or not. But sharing my incomplete news might cause them to disbelieve more or worse: persecution. To avoid such confusion, I often prevented myself from joining in with groups of people, or avoided looking deep into people’s eyes when I had premonitions. Any meeting would be even more challenging if the vision concerned a close family member, leading to misunderstandings and unspoken words.
A short ceremony was held during the wake for my father, and many people attended. But I did not expect to be asked to say some words while fighting back sobs. I was unprepared, wordless. I was afraid that nobody had understood what I said. However, a man came up to me after the ceremony. He smiled and said, “I agree with you,” staring at me. He had understood me without words. I was bewildered because I had seen a vision of him dead. I became even more upset; I did not understand anymore what he was saying.
The following morning, the man attended my father’s burial, and I met him in the cemetery with his family. He was the father of my nephew’s wife. I sensed that to inform them of what would happen to her father would only cause them more grief. I regret being a coward by failing to help them prepare for the coming sad event. But I didn’t want them to anticipate their pain of losing him. Only a handful of close family and friends know that I have this capacity, and that I always feel guilty. Today, although it is difficult to handle, I often keep things to myself to avoid confrontation, and try to make peace with that.
Anyhow, I felt honoured and flattered when harmless good spirits came to visit me; for me, it is a great privilege that they still remember me from before, and even after they had joined the “other side.” It is gratifying to hear when a spirit has had a happy crossover, like my beloved father, Tatay Eco. Even though I will be missing him dearly for the rest of my life, in my memory Tatay remains forever alive as I keep his legacy of wisdom in me. I am quite reassured, thinking that he is there watching me like a guardian angel, and he is waiting for me when my turn comes.
I once saw Hugues, my nephew, in a flash or vision meeting with a car accident. So, I advised him not to drive and said that should stay home that night. He agreed with me, and I was happy. But a close friend came with a car and invited him to go somewhere. That night, I dreamed of Hugues inside the car, wounded. His head was bathed in blood. In fact, their vehicle hit a large pole and the broken lamppost came through the roof of their car. My young daughter had precisely the same dream that night. Upon awakening, we immediately called Hugues’s mother, to find out if he was still in bed. She said Hugues had not slept at home. We were all in panic. We called the police and hospitals. It turned out that Hugues was in the hospital, seriously wounded but alive. I always wonder why I sometimes had the sense and dream of the upcoming events when, in fact, I couldn’t prevent it?
I barely came back from near-death experience and out of body sensation. At the time I remember seeing a heavenly peaceful place, full of white light, and hearing sacred chants. I felt wonderfully loved. In this encounter with “the other side” I met my late grandmother, who helped me see that “life after death” really exists. And I said to myself, if this is the way we feel when we die, we need not fear death, as it is the beginning of real life, “the eternal life.”
I strove to survive while battling against obstacles and trials: such as my struggle when the boat was about to capsize; being crushed by the crowd in panic during Pope John Paul II’s visit to Manila in 1981; and I was kidnapped but managed to escape in Cebu, among other difficult situations. I realised that God had never left me. Now, I live my life according to God’s plan.
At times I thought I have perhaps been punished because of my reticence, doubts, and anger to a mysterious man who suddenly appeared in the jeepney where I was alone passenger riding in Butuan in February 1980. He spoke to me in a parable which was quite hard to understand at the time. It was as if he knew me and who I would chose for my husband; who was he who had dared to interfere in my life? This question persisted in my mind for more than three decades. I only know now who he was, as I discovered while writing this memoir. It took me many long years to understand that he was an angel or the messenger of God.
Today, when I think of all the adventures I have lived through, some of which could have been fatal, I know I have been rescued many times “in extremis” by the “divine hand.” I sometimes thought that, maybe, my destiny was already been written since my birth – or even maybe before I was conceived.
The year 2017 was, for me, the year of significant changes. My father’s death triggered the need to trace and write down my memories guided by the good spirits. I often felt like I was running out of time to write. However, lack of time is not a good excuse to put off writing our memoirs, because our memories across a lifetime do matter. Thus, by writing these words down, I am able to learn about myself, leave a legacy, and keep my father’s memory alive.
