Jun 10 • Spiritual Experiences
Day 2 — Waking at 3:00 a.m., Coffee, the Sacred Fire, and Uncle Paulo
I woke up at 3:00 a.m.
I scrolled on my phone until about 3:45, then thought, “It’s coffee time.”
So I left the house and went out to my truck. The rain was still coming down, and the wind was still strong, but it did not faze me.
I just wanted my coffee.
I started up my truck and headed out. That was when I saw how many stalled vehicles had been abandoned on Concordia.
As I drove down Concordia, I realized how badly flooded the road was. I do not ever remember seeing the water get that high before.
Still, I powered through carefully, driving through the water and around the stalled vehicles.
The streets were dead.
Eventually, I made it to Tim Hortons and got my much-needed coffee.
After that, I decided to check on my Uncle Paulo. I sent him a message, but I did not receive a response, so I drove by his place. His lights were out, so I figured I would be on my way.
But then I noticed something a few doors down.
One of his neighbours had a fire going under a tent.
Immediately, I thought about a story my uncle had once told me about his neighbour, an Indigenous man who had passed away tragically.
Something in me thought, “This must be a sacred fire.”
I was intrigued, so I got out of my vehicle and respectfully asked about it.
They confirmed that it was indeed a sacred fire for the man who had passed.
I asked if there was anything I could do to help.
They told me they were out of firewood, and that if I could bring some, they would be very thankful.
I asked how many bags they needed.
They said, “Three or four.”
I told them, “I’ll see what I can do.”
One of the men suggested I try the nearby Domo. The power was out there, so I was not sure if it was open, but luckily it was.
Unfortunately, they were all out of wood.
I thanked them and started walking back to my truck. That was when I saw an Indigenous woman walking alone. She looked sad.
I tried speaking to her, but she just looked at me and did not say a word.
So I handed her two $5 bills from my wallet and told her to go to McDonald’s across the street to get something to eat.
Then I was off to the next store.
I tried the next two places that sold wood, but either they were out, or the wood had been left outside in the rain.
So I kept going.
Eventually, I found another Domo further down the road, and luckily, they had four bags of wood that had at least been kept under outdoor shelter.
I bought all four bags and brought them back to the sacred fire.
There, I met the wife of the man who had passed, her brother, a kind neighbour who reminded me of one of my nephews, and another friend of theirs.
They were very thankful, and we shared a short but meaningful conversation.
Before dropping off the firewood, I drove by my uncle’s place again and noticed his lights were now on. I yelled out, “Uncle Paulo!”
I saw his white hair through the window, and he responded.
I told him I would be back shortly.
After dropping off the firewood and giving my respect at the sacred fire, I went back to visit Uncle Paulo.
I told him about my dream, the storm, and the beautiful experience I had just had with his neighbours.
We ended up having a great conversation.
The whole thing felt connected.
If I had not woken up at 3:00 a.m., I may not have gone for coffee.
If I had not gone for coffee, I may not have checked on Uncle Paulo.
If I had not checked on Uncle Paulo, I would not have noticed the fire under the tent.
And if I had not noticed that fire, I would not have had the chance to pay my respects and help an Indigenous family during a sacred moment.
My Uncle Paulo is Italian.
I am both Italian and Indigenous.
And it brought joy to my heart that, in that moment, I could honour both family and heritage.
In the middle of a storm, after a strange dream, after tornado warnings, after worry for my son, I somehow found myself standing near a sacred fire, offering help where I could.
And that meant something to me.
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Day 2 — Waking at 3:00 a.m., Coffee, the Sacred Fire, and Uncle Paulo
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