Awakened by the Ancestors: A Journey to the African Gods and My True Power"

"Echoes of Silence: The Day the World Stood Still"

In the aftermath of that terrifying day, I found myself pondering the idea of ancestral protection. The thought lingered in my mind like a shadow, whispering to me in moments of silence. It was hard to shake off the feeling that something greater had intervened, guiding me and keeping me safe when I was so vulnerable.

That evening, after I shared my experience with my mom, I sat in my room, reflecting on the strange events. I had never been particularly spiritual, but as I recalled the voice that had warned me and the force that had pushed me out of harm’s way, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was my ancestors watching over me. My father had always spoken fondly of our family’s history, sharing stories of resilience and courage passed down through generations. Had those same spirits been present that day?

In the days that followed, I began to explore this idea more deeply. I started to learn about our family lineage, tracing back the roots that connected me to those who came before. I read stories of their struggles, their triumphs, and their unwavering love for our family. Each tale felt like a thread weaving through time, forming a tapestry of strength and support.

One night, as I lit a candle in remembrance of my father and our ancestors, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I closed my eyes and whispered a quiet thank you, acknowledging their presence in my life. I felt an inexplicable warmth, as if they were surrounding me, offering protection and guidance.

From that moment on, I chose to believe that my ancestors were indeed looking out for me. It made sense; they had faced their own trials, endured hardships, and overcome obstacles. Their strength ran through my veins, and I realized that their spirit lived on in me. Perhaps it was their collective wisdom that had guided me that day, reminding me to be cautious and alert.

As I continued to navigate life without my father, I found solace in this newfound connection. Whenever I felt overwhelmed by grief or fear, I would close my eyes and picture my ancestors standing beside me, their silent support fortifying my resolve.

I began to share these stories with my sister, hoping to instill in her the same sense of connection to our past. We would talk about our family, the values they had instilled in us, and how they were always with us in spirit. I wanted her to understand that, though our father was gone, we were never truly alone.

In time, the memory of that day faded into a lesson rather than a scar. I learned to be more aware of my surroundings, to appreciate the small moments, and to find comfort in the love of my family—both living and departed.

Ultimately, it became clear to me: whether it was my ancestors or some other force, something had protected me that day. And for that, I would always be grateful.