I had just started to actually maintain a decent relationship with my father after my mom and he separated when I was like 1 year old. Then… well, let me give you all some context.

My mom had told me since I was like 4 years old about a relic that had been in my family for like… 300 years or something, ok not sure, suffice it to say, it’s old. It had the bone fragments of several saints inside it. I had never seen even a picture of this thing, but my mom told us about it, and how, when my brother was just 3 days old, my great grandfather had bequeathed it to my older brother, the oldest great grandchild. So, we always knew we’d be getting ahold of it.

I didn’t even know it was within distance of me… I thought it was still in Mexico. Then, he started the proceedings of moving to Spain soon, and as such, he couldn’t take it with him because it had human remains in it, and he told me he was thinking of giving it to the archdiocese in my area. I begged him to just give it to my brother and I. He finally agreed, and he let me see it for the first time in my life, my brother hasn’t seen it since he was 3 days old.

It was the size of a large compass or pocket watch and the bones are all labeled as to which Saint they came from. It was like Indiana Jones treasure.

Yesterday I asked when I could pick it up, as he told me that he wanted to get it blessed before handing it over (whatever) and he revealed that he went behind my back and donated it to the archdiocese anyway.

I’m gutted… not because of the object it’s the betrayal and this… feeling that I’ve lost another piece of my heritage.

When I was a kid, no one would let me put that I was Hispanic on my documents because they said I looked too white. And once again, this guy taken from me…