Miracles on Miracles

Chapter 8

Ito is having such a good day! He sat up and ate some scrambled eggs. He's talking and laughing. I haven't seen him like this since I got here. It feels like he's turning a corner. I can't believe he's doing so much better! I have my Ito back!

Carmen was truly in awe of Ito's sudden recovery. She wrote it in her journal, "Miracle 42 – I have my Ito back!" He was even feeling well enough to be wheeled outside in his wheelchair. She parked him right beside his avocado tree where he inspected the fruits. He picked one and handed it to Carmen.

"Este ya está," he said, indicating that it was a ripe one. He picked two more and then declared, "Ya tienes para un guacamole." Carmen was excited that he seemed interested in his tree again. When he had been well, he loved to spend the day outside, tending to his plants or on the roof hanging the wet laundry that Ita would pass to him in basket.

"If I make guacamole, will you eat it?" Carmen questioned.

"Claro, mi llorona," Ito affirmed. He had chosen the nickname la Llorona (the weeping woman) for Carmen when she was quite young because she cried a lot. La Llorona was the ghostly apparition of a woman who had killed her children and was destined to wander the earth, weeping for all eternity. Carmen would usually have objected to the nickname, as she did when other family members used it, but Ito could get away with anything because he was just so darned cute.

When the sun got too hot, Carmen wheeled him back inside where he actually sat up at the table and ate his guacamole while Ita told the story of how they first met.

"Your Ito was known as 'the prince' because of his light complexion. Well, he saw me, this morenita gordita," she said, "and he couldn't help but want a taste of chocolate." Carmen wondered if anyone had ever objected to their union based on their vastly different skin tones, but she kept her question to herself. "But I wouldn't give it up to him," Ita continued with her story. "Pero bien que me las pidió" she asserted, indicating that he had asked her bum cheeks, but she hadn't conceded until they were married.

Embarrassed by the vulgarity of the conversation, Ito waved his hand frantically. "It wasn't like that! Don't believe her!" he contested. "I was un angelito," he argued.

"Mejor dicho, un ángel caído," Ita shot back that he was a fallen angel.

"Ay, María," he lamented. Then turning to Carmen, he whispered, "Es mucha mujer para mí." It made her smile that he was always affirming that Ita was way too much woman for him.

Exhausted from the day's activities, Ito fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Carmen was relieved because he had not slept well of late, which meant that she had not slept either. Having seen how much better he was, she decided to sleep in her own room and let Ita sleep beside her beloved husband.

At around 3:00 AM, Carmen was awakened by her grandmother.

"Carmen, you'd better come see. Your grandpa is acting really crazy," she told a still drowsy Carmen.

"Alright, I'm coming," she said as she rolled out of bed and stumbled toward her grandpa's room.

There he sat, bolt upright in bed, talking to someone who wasn't there. Carmen listened intently, hoping to discern with whom he thought he was speaking. "Mamá, can you make me a remeque?" he asked, using the word that the native Tarahumara used for tortilla. Her Ito often threw in words from the indigenous people of Chihuahua since he had spent his childhood with many indigenous friends who gave him an appreciation for the plateaus, gorges, and canyons of their relative cool state in the northern part of Mexico.

Ito held his arms out, reaching for something or someone only he could see. "Wait for me! Let me catch up," he called out to the invisible person, presumably one of his childhood friends. Carmen remembered his stories of how he would run with the Tarahumara people who were known for their ability to run for long distances. "Wait, let me come with you!" Ito cried out in desperation. Eventually, a certain light of recognition came to his eyes as he finally looked at Carmen who had been shaking him, trying to wake him from his delusion.

"They are going to la Barranca de Cobre, but they won't take me along," he complained. The Copper Canyon? Carmen thought. He must think he's back in Chihuahua again, she reasoned. When Ito had calmed down, Carmen went back to her room, but sleep escaped her for the rest of the night as she wondered what her grandfather had been seeing.

The next day, when Nurse Julia came to check on Ito, Carmen told her about the strange evens of the night before.

La Enfermera Julia smiled widely when she heard the story. "He's almost ready to cross over," she opined. "He's visioning. That's what people do when they are very close to the other side. They begin to see loved ones and beloved places. For him, Heaven is probably running with his friends to la Barranca de Cobre," she told Carmen.

Carmen shook her head vehemently. "No, he's not close to death, Nurse Julia," she argued. "You should have seen how much better he was yesterday. He got up and ate. He went outside. He sat at the table and talked to us," she said, enumerating her grandfather's various feats as proof that he was turning a corner and coming out of this downturn.

Nurse Julia put her hand on Carmen's shoulder compassionately. "Honey, that was just the Rally," she said. "Don't let it fool you into thinking he's better," she advised. "The Rally usually happens just a few days before death. The patient makes a remarkable 'recovery' for a short time. They are suddenly sitting up, talking, and laughing like their old selves. But it's short-lived, baby." She squeezed Carmen's shoulder. "Make no mistake about it. Your ito is dying," she affirmed softly.

"But --- but if you had only seen him yesterday, you would understand," Carmen replied in a pleading voice.

"I do understand," the nurse replied. "Come here with me," she said as they both stepped into her grandfather's room. She pulled down the covers and lifted Ito's shirt. "Do you see this swelling in his belly?" she asked. "His heart and his kidneys are shutting down," she explained. "He can't pee out the fluid. So, it's building up in his belly." Then she pulled the sheets down further to show Carmen his legs.

"You can see here the purple and white mottling on his legs. The skin takes on that look when someone is close to transitioning to the other side," the kindly nurse said.

"Transitioning?!" Carmen asked, much louder than she had intended. "Why can't we say the word? He's dying, okay? That's what you are saying. You are telling me that he's dying even though you didn't see how well he was yesterday. You're just looking for reasons to pronounce him dead!" she charged.

"Carmencita," Ita said in a calming voice. "La Enfermera Julia isn't the problem here," she added. "It's almost over. I can feel it in my bones," she affirmed. "I've been married to your grandpa for over 50 years. I know him inside and out. And I'm telling you that he is about to cross over," she persisted.

"I don't know why you guys have to be so negative!" Carmen complained. "Why can't we just fill this room with positive thoughts?" she urged.

"Carmen, he won't go as long as you are fighting it. You'll have to let him go so that he can feel okay about leaving. He needs to know you are ready to let him go," Nurse Julia explained.

"Well, I'm not ready," Carmen replied. "So put that in your pipe and smoke it!" she challenged to two older women. With that Nurse Julia shot Ita a knowing look, the look that older people use when they see a young person struggling. It was the look that said, "This too shall pass."