In the spring of 2002 and for the subsequent year, I was at death's door. Immediately following the birth of my fourth of six children, I had become critically ill with pregnancy-induced Acute Grave's Disease. During many postpartum months, as my thyroid stormed toxically, poisoning the atriums of my heart, causing me to have temporary heart disease; I saw angels and spirits of the deceased. This painting was born of a certain celestial vision I had experienced, during one of my two extended stays at the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit of the Cedar Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. There, I began identifying the guardian angels of doctors, nurses and others who meandered into my hospital room. Nestled behind the shoulder blades of people, these protective spirits were in the form of bright balls of warm light. Some were larger than others. Their energy was euphoric. They emanated the most beautiful music that was without notes.
Whenever my heart frequently went into rapid atrial fibrillation, a host of angels appeared above me to the far left. There seemed to be about seven angels in the group. Each time, as my heart went into spasms and my soul began to lift up and out of my body, these angels, dancing euphorically, descended themselves very near to me. Upon, connecting with my soul's psyche, they ascended again, pulling me with them, escorting me towards eternity. Enticed, my soul followed the angels, half willingly, half hesitantly, until we were separated and I drifted back down.
During my two ICU hospital stays, my own guardian angel, who was male in energy, sat gently near me to my left, where I could see him. He was much bigger than the giddy angels in the host, calmer and wiser. Whenever my soul ascended too high, my guardian angel knowingly came between the host of angels and me and gingerly pushed them upward, separating us. As the angels retreated heavenward, my soul lowered itself back into my body.
This phenomenon occurred cyclically, whenever the poisoned atriums in my heart fibrillated rapidly.
Very quickly, my parents had flown to my hospital bedside in Los Angles, all the way from Spain, my sister Alicia and her children from the midwest, my brother Jose from down the street, friends from all over. They all helped ground me to the earth where my four very young sons wept in my absence. My children were the driving force in my intense fight against death. I am thankful to my parents for having taken such good care of my husband and our four children, the eldest having been only four, at that time, and the youngest, newborn, just two months old.
Sitting with with me in my sterile hospital room for hours upon days, holding my hand, my family and friends smiled and trembled through their fear. They prayed, often out loud, whenever my heart fibrillated rapidly while the doctors and nurses hastily entered my hospital room. At these moments, when the host of angels appeared to take my soul away, I often remarked, "The angels are here! They're coming closer! Can you see them?!" At my utterance of the angels' arrival, various hospital staff gazed at me with their eyes widened, afraid for my mortality.
"Tell the angels to go away," my mother responded to me swiftly. "Go away! Leave her alone," she snapped toward the direction in which she knew I was seeing the angels.
It was specifically the soul encounter with my dearly departed little cousin, Roxana Perez, which gave birth to this painting. During one of the many rapid atrial fibrillation episodes that I survived in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit of Cedar Sinai, I witnessed Roxy's spirit speak to me very clearly. The incident began with a vision of Roxy's parents and her little brother, Fernandito. In the far right corner of my hospital room, I saw a live image of the three of them turned away from me, surrounded by darkness, with their shoulders slumped downward. Their bodies were diminutive, their backs glowed orange. Suddenly from where they were, a big burst of light flew over in an arc, past me to my left, to the host of angels who had been watching me.
When the bright ball of light and the host of angels met, they all danced together euphorically, happy to meet one another. They began exchanging information. The angels sent the ball of light over to my guardian spirit, who was yet resting quietly beside me. Once in front of my guardian angel, the ball of light ceased dancing and held still, as if in reverence and concern. My guardian angel communicated information to the ball of light which I could not here or understand. Suddenly, as if sent, the ball of light zipped over to me and hovered steadily in front of my face. It floated so close to my face that I could feel the warmth of its magnificent glow against my cheeks. Immediately, it became clear to me that the ball of light was the spirit of my cousin Roxy. It was unmistakable. Though without human form, Roxy's smiling face appeared in the midst of the ball. With disembodied heavenly gestures, Roxy's every attitude radiated from the light.
In a rush to get back to her parents, in that cosmic, spirit-to-conscious, wordless communication, Roxy quickly told me, "Call my mother and tell her that I'm OK, that there's no where on earth I'd rather be than right there in heaven." Roxy continued, saying that time on earth is short; but that in heaven there is no time. She said to tell her mother that soon they'd be together, though long it may seem to those on earth. She also told me to tell her mother that she did not suffer, during her death. I quickly called her mother and told her. Believing, Roxy's mother was elated at the good news. Perhaps it provided some sense of comfort in her deep bereavement for the daughter with whom she, her husband and their son Fernandito were so close.
A few years prior, at the age of twenty-two, Roxy had been killed in a car accident. She was the daughter of my father's nephew Fernando Perez whom we call "Papito" and his wonderful wife Sira, who has always been like a big sister to me. In many ways, Roxy was like the little sister I never had.
Our families lived down the road from one another in Princeton Junction, New Jersey. We grew up going to the same schools and playing Little League baseball in the same ballpark, which was right behind the Perez's backyard. After school, and all day during the vacation months, Roxy and her little brother Fernandito used to stay at our house, under my mother's care, until her parents came home from work to retrieve them.
As a very young child, Roxy delighted the family by putting on "dance video shows" for us. Boogying to the beat of Michael Jackson, Roxy emulated every move of the Pop King's. At the age of seven, she had the moonwalk down pat, white sparkling glove, tilted hat and all!
Roxy grew, combining her passion for R&B music with an interest in sports. In college, she was the public relations officer for the Howard University Woman's Basketball team. Upon graduation from Howard, Roxy went on to work as a public relations assistant for the NFL (National Football League) at their corporate headquarters in New York City.
Roxy's funeral lent testimony to her having positively impacted so many different people in her short life. Friends and colleagues waited, to pay their respect, in a long line that extended from the funeral home to the middle of the next block. So many people shared stories of how they had benefited in knowing my little cousin Roxy. Our family suffered tremendously in Roxy's passing. Roxana's family, in many regards, was a role model of love and excellence for our extended family.
