O SEGREDO DE 1994, O TÚMULO DA FAMÍLIA ASSUNÇÃO… ELE CONDENOU SETE ALMAS EM UM RITUAL | Espiritual 

O SEGREDO DE 1994, O TÚMULO DA FAMÍLIA ASSUNÇÃO… ELE CONDENOU SETE ALMAS EM UM RITUAL | Espiritual

There are things we learn at the beginning career and carry it to the end. Has something that we only learn after decades, when he has seen enough to knowing how to distinguish what is nervous from newbie than is real. And there is a third category which is smaller, rarer, than most cemetery workers spend their lives whole without finding and that when find it, never forget it again rest of the remaining years.

 I am part of this third category. I’m 54 years old, 32 of them spent inside the cemetery Our Lady of Peace, in Maringá, north from Paraná. And there is a deposit in that cemetery that changed the way I live understand what death is, what it is imprisonment and what happens when a man believes he has power over things that were not made to be under the no one’s power.

 Block G, lot 11, the tomb of the Assunção family. I know this name since my first month work and what I discovered about it in the 32 years that followed is what I I’m going to tell you here today. I don’t start with 1994, I start earlier. Because to understand what happened in 1994, you need to understand who Ernesto was Assumption.

 And to understand who he was Ernesto Assunção, you need to understand that there are men who are born with a need for control that goes beyond any limit that the reason would establish, which they build around si a domain structure that works while it works and when it starts to falling apart takes with it everything that was close.

 Ernesto was one of those men and the entire family paid a price that none of them had agreed to pay. My name is Roberto Alves Cunha. I was born in Maringá in 1971, son of a truck driver and a elementary school teacher. I grew up in the Zona 7 neighborhood and entered the cemetery Our Lady of Peace in March 1993 aged 22.

 without any specific plan of life, in addition to working and paying bills for the apartment I shared with a cousin in the working-class village. There was no romanticism in choosing a profession, not had called, there was no history of family linked to the industry, there was a vacancy, a fixed salary and I needed one and the other.

 The cemetery hired me and I went. Just like that. I took the first month getting used to the smell, the specific silence of that place, with the weight of work, which was not physical only, but it carried a gravity emotional than older colleagues already had metabolized and that I needed metabolize too if it wanted to last. I lasted 32 years later.

 I’m still here with my knees complaining more than before and with eyes that have already seen the enough not to be surprised by a lot of things. But there is an exception for the whole rule. I heard about lot 11 of quadra G in my second month of work. It was an older colleague, Mr. Natalino, which had almost 20 years of cemetery in time and who mentioned the tomb of Assunção family, with the type of brevity that people use when want to communicate something without having to elaborate. the brevity that says everything without

say nothing and expect the listener to be smart enough to catch the subtext. He said that that tomb we didn’t touch, it wasn’t procedure official, it was not written in any manual, there was no order from the administration on the subject. the type of rule that exists, because older people transmitted to the youngest and the most new ones learned to respect without question a lot, because the exceptions that they had tried to question they had returned different. I asked why.

 Your Natalino looked at me with that expression who is evaluating whether the interlocutor deserves the work of an explanation complete. He decided no and just said that there were seven in there and that there were seven who had not gone in peace. Full stop. Matter closed on his side. I went see the jacigo the next day.

 The court G is in the oldest sector of the cemetery, where the structures are more heavy. more permanent, where wealthy families buried their dead with architecture, which demonstrated that there was money and intention to last. Lot 11 is a deposit of dark marble, almost black, with a bronze plaque in front that lists the names and dates and what is in the top a white marble cross that contrasts with the dark structure of a way that, looking now at what I I know, it almost seems ironic.

 it’s big enough to accommodate a family entire in overlapping compartments. And there was something in the structure of that deposit that was different from the others around in a way that I couldn’t name immediately on that first visit. I took standing in front of him for a while, trying identify what that difference was.

Then I understood that it was the silence, not the absence of sound, which is uniform throughout entire cemetery. It was another kind of silence. silence that had texture, that seemed to occupy space in a way different from normal silence, as if the air around that deposit was denser, more resistant, as if there was something inside that marble dark that pressed outward and that the marble was holding on with effort.

I stayed for 2 minutes at most and left. I felt nothing more than that, but that different silence stayed with me the rest of the day like a question that I don’t I knew how to formulate it correctly. In the months following, I learned in bits and pieces how to story that circulated among older employees about the Assunção family.

 There was no version unified official, complete. was the type of history that exists in fragments scattered throughout the memory of those who were around at that time, each keeping a different piece that only It takes shape as you pass by years of putting these pieces together patience. What I knew relatively certainty at the end of my first year of work was as follows.

 In September of 1981, over a period of 21 days, seven members of the Assunção family had died and been buried in that tomb. Causes several, according to the records: heart attack, accident, sudden illness, causes that individually would not raise no eyebrows, but together, seven deaths in the same family in 21 days, formed a pattern that reason refuses calling it a coincidence.

 without her herself know exactly what she would call in place. And there was one detail that everyone fragments that I was collecting had in common. The patriarch of the Ernesto family Assunção was not among the seven. Ernesto Assunção was 63 years old in September 1981. He owned a farm in the interior. He had built a reasonable fortune over the over decades in agribusiness Paraná and was described by everyone who mentioned it with the same expression as people use it to talk about someone who they admired with fear. a man of presence

absolute, of will that did not bend, of faith that was both deep and distorted, in a way that people around them they felt, but they could not name while it was happening. I attended mass every Sunday. was known by the local priest, contributed with the parish, he had a reputation superficial religious man and correct, but there was something underneath it that the closest ones began to realize only after it was already late.

 a growing obsession with protection, [music] with control of the destiny, with the idea that there were forces invisible ones that threatened everything he had built and that there were ways of deal with these forces that the church official did not teach, but there were for anyone who knew how to look. Ernesto I had looked and found it.

 O What exactly did you find? Who taught? What texts or traditions or intermediate figures were involved. I never achieved that reconstitute completely. What I know that took me years to assemble with the precision I have today is which Ernesto executed in August 1981, weeks before the deaths, a ritual that he believed it would seal the protection of family forever, that would keep everyone his neighbors tied to him, safe under its protection, immune to the forces that he feared. The logic of the ritual in the head

distorted of a man who had mixed faith with spiritualism, with traditions I didn’t understand completely, was that the bond created by that ritual he would make the family one inseparable spiritual unity, protected as a whole, inaccessible to any external force. He believed genuinely about it.

 I believed that I was protecting the people I loved the only way I knew it would work for real. Did the ritual fail or work? in a way that Ernesto had not foreseen and that no protection could have prepared anyone to face it. Because what the ritual did was not protect, went to arrest. And what caught It wasn’t an external threat, it was the own family.

The seven deaths in 21 days I didn’t I followed. It happened 12 years before I enter the cemetery. But your Christmas I was here when they buried the first one and the second and the five that came after and what he described to me. More years afternoon, one of those late afternoons when the service was light and the conversation was deep without us having planned.

so there was something different in each one of those funerals he couldn’t get attribute only to the accumulated grief of a family that was losing a member after member in impossible sequence. There were a quality in the air around that lie in every ceremony that was unlike any other air funeral he had attended.

A localized cold that did not correspond at the temperature of the day, a stillness that specifically installed [music] in that sector of the cemetery while duration of the burial and which ended when the family left. And in the last ceremony, in the burial of the seventh member, his Christmas said he heard it clearly, coming from inside the closed tomb, the sound of voices praying in a low voice, in a language that he did not recognize it immediately and that he only identified later, when he told a more literate known as Latin.

You pray in Latin, coming from a tomb closed, where there were seven dead from a family who had died in 21 days. Your Christmas boy has finished sealing the compartment, went to the bathroom sector, he had his hands in the sink for a time that he did not know how to quantify and After that day, never again voluntarily approached lot 11 of the quadra G.

 worked for another 17 years at same cemetery and never went again until that court without a reason for service specific. And when there was reason to service, he went quickly, did what I had to do it and leave. Ernesto Assunção died in 1994, 13 years after the set. died at home in bed of natural causes aged 82 and was buried in a different cemetery in another city by express wish registered at a notary’s office.

 A desire that he had registered years before with a specificity that the people around interpreted as eccentricity of old, but when I found out I interpreted it as something else completely. He didn’t want to be buried with the family, did not want to be placed in the tomb which he himself had built decades before to receive all assumption.

 Registered in a registry office that should be buried in another municipality, in another cemetery, in a simple grave, without family tomb, and that lot 11 of 4G from Our Lady of Peace cemetery it should be opened to receive it. one man who spent 13 years knowing what had done and in the end there was no courage to go into what was there created.

 I was 23 years old in 1994 and I was in my second year of work when Ernesto died. I didn’t know about immediate. I found out months later, when the news reached the cemetery by a side path, an employee who had read in the newspaper and mentioned in the lunch time that old Assunção he had died and was not going to be buried here.

 There was a silence at the table that was brief, but I recorded it. The most old men looked at each other at that communication without words from someone shares an understanding that does not needs to be verbalized. And then someone He changed the subject and lunch continued. I went to Court G at that same end in the afternoon.

 I stayed in front of the Tomb for longer than the first time. The cold was there, located without cause, ending in a precise border that I I realized, testing with my arms stretched out within the cold border, outside it, the normal temperature at the end in the afternoon. And the silence with texture it was there. thicker than I remembered first time, or maybe I just I would be better able to recognize it now after years of cemetery than it had been in the second month.

 I stayed looking at the bronze plaque with the seven names and seven dates and thinking about eighth name that would never be recorded there. And it was at that moment standing in front of that dark marble, with the sun descending in the late afternoon from Maringá, which I heard it for the first time.

 They were voices low, overlapping, with that characteristic of prayer that has rhythm and cadence, even when you don’t understand the words. came from inside the tomb with a clarity that left no margin for perception error. They weren’t voices in the distance, they weren’t the wind, they weren’t sounds of the cemetery distorting from somehow.

 were voices from inside a sealed tomb, where there were seven dead and where there was no one alive. And they lasted maybe 15 seconds before they stop completely and leave only the silence with texture and cold located. And I stopped with my heart accelerated in front of the dark marble of the Assunção family, I left, but I went different from what had arrived.

 In the years following, I became, without there was a conscious decision about that, the cemetery employee Our Lady of Peace, who knew most about the lot 11 of block G. Not because I looked this position, because I continued to provide attention when others stopped, because I continued asking questions when the older colleagues were patient to respond? Why did I go to the registry office? search Ernesto’s record Asuncion? Because I went to the archive city hall behind the records of the seven 1981 deaths, because I went to the municipal library

look for what the local newspaper had published about the family that year. I did all this in pieces, without rushing, without a formal method, driven by a combination of curiosity and something that I only managed to name it after a long time time, which was the feeling that there was an injustice in what I needed understand, even if there was nothing what I could do about it.

 What I have assembled over these years is the next. Ernesto Assunção discovered in beginning of the 70s, through a network of contacts that mixed practices spiritualists with elements of traditions occultists who circulated in certain groups from the interior of Paraná in that season.

 the existence of rituals of binding spiritual bond that promised to create an unbreakable bond between members of a group. A bow which, according to those traditions, extended beyond death and maintained intact bonds on the spiritual plane. A Ernesto’s motivation, as much as I do I managed to reconstitute it, it wasn’t malignant in origin, it was fear, specific fear of a man who had built everything alone and was terrified of seeing that come undone, who was terrified of losing theirs, who had seen the death of close at some point in life and that

I had never been able to make peace with the idea that she could take them without warning. The ritual was in his head a form of protection, guarantee, control over the only thing he I had never been able to control it. The problem is that the ritual you taught was not about protection, it was about imprisonment.

And the difference between the two on the side of outside, when you’re looking at a text that does not completely dominate and wanting to believe you found what I was looking for this difference appears clearly until it’s too late too much. Ernesto performed the ritual in August 1981. gathered the necessary symbols, followed the steps he had learned, he performed the ceremony at the tomb that he had ordered build on block G and believed that had protected his family.

 One month then the first member died, then the second, and the third, and the fourth, and the three who completed seven in 21 days. every natural or accidental death in surface, the kind of thing that happens, that can happen, that happens to families without any ritual involved. But seven in 21 days is not coincidence, it is execution.

 And what does the ritual had done was not to protect those seven people, was to link them to the deposit in a way that the plan spiritual recognized as a summons. He took the seven because the seven were marked and kept them there in the tomb of dark marble, because the bond created by the ritual it had not been undone.

 And the the only one who could undo it, the eighth, the executioner Ernesto, had fled the only responsibility that the act he even had committed demanded. 13 years of leak and the eighth compartment of the tomb of court G, which was left empty for always. I felt the consequences of this throughout of 30 years of work, in ways that vary in intensity and nature.

 O localized cold is constant. Any employee who has already passed through block G can confirm even without knowing where come. The voices I heard on six occasions, separated over three decades. always in the late afternoon, always with that cadence of prayer in Latin, always with short duration and abrupt sensation, as if something inside the tomb realized that was being heard and decided stop.

 There was an episode in 2003 with a new employee who had not been warned about lot 11 because its Natalino had already retired. And I I was on vacation that month and no one had passed on the information with the emphasis necessary that reached court G for routine cleaning and stood in front of the tomb for too long. When we found him 20 minutes later, I was sitting on the floor with your back against the tomb, looking straight ahead with an expression that was not of any emotion specific, it was one of absence, as if something had gone away from the face

that should be there. It took three days to come back completely to yourself. Never told what he had seen in those 20 minutes. resigned two months ago later and left for Cascavel, where the family lived. And there was the vision that I I had it in 2017, which is part of this story that I still carry with more weight, which is the part that keeps me going coming here and telling this story, even when I wonder if I should stay in silence.

 It was a Saturday morning July 2017, with that dry cold of a Paraná winter that has no snow, but it has a bone chill that Carioca doesn’t believe it when we account. I was doing a round of routine through the old sector, checking the deposits that had identification of family with no known heirs, to check the condition when I passed by block G.

 It was not my intention stop at lot 11, but I stopped. The board bronze was as always with the seven names and the seven dates engraved with the permanent metal precision. The marble dark was clean, the tomb in good condition as it was decades, without anyone needing perform specific maintenance. Everything normal on the surface.

 I was about to continue the round when I looked at space immediately in front of the Tomb and I saw the girl. I was about 8 years old size. His back was to me, in front of the tomb, with hands clasped in the chest height in a gesture that was clearly praying, straight black hair and long to the waist, white dress that was not made of any specific tissue that I could identify.

Barefoot on the cold concrete of the hallway block G. I froze not of immediate fear, of disconcertment, because there were no children in visit to the cemetery that Saturday morning. I had passed through the entrance and there was no one, and especially not there were no children in white barefoot in the cold of July praying alone in the in front of a jaigo in the old sector.

I stood still for a moment I don’t know quantify trying to decide what do. Then she turned her head around over his right shoulder and looked at me. I know how I am to what I’m going to say. I’ve heard the rationalist versions, I have already applied myself to them. I myself, in moments of clarity and of healthy skepticism, I have already considered all explanations that do not involve the supernatural.

 But when that child looked at me, what I saw on her face didn’t it was the face of a living child, it was the face of someone who was asking something with an urgency that doesn’t had words, with a need that was older than that 8-year-old body years suggested, with an expression that mixed pleading and exhaustion in a way that I had never seen before and that I hope I don’t see it again.

 She looked at me for three or four seconds and then no it was more there. It didn’t disappear the way it did Things disappear when we blink. It disappeared the way things disappear when they were never there to begin with. Space becoming empty all at once, without transition, with nothing occupying the middle between being and not being.

And I was left alone on the G court in the cold July 2017, with the certainty that had seen one of the seven, a child, Assunção, who had died in September 1981 and that in 36 years, inside a deposit of dark marble, was still praying, I was still waiting, I was still waiting trapped in a place where no children should be for one reason only, because the man who had trapped her there intentionally or not, there was died in 1994, without assuming the sole responsibility that could have released the seven. I’m 54

years, I work at the Nossa Senhora cemetery Lady of Peace since March 1993 and I have no plans to stop before the knees force me. I pass by block G as part of the routine, slower than that I pass through other sectors, with the attention switched on in a different way than that I call in other corridors. The localized cold is still there.

 I don’t know if it will always be. I don’t know if it exists anything that can be done about this height, [music] after decades by the executor who fled and was buried in another municipality and for seven souls who are waiting in a deposit of dark marble one eighth that will not come. What I know is that Ernesto Assunção believed he was protecting those he loved and that the difference between protection and imprisonment, when you are using tools that do not understands completely driven by fear of losing control, this difference

It costs a lot. It costs 21 days of deaths in September 1981. It costs 36 years of a barefoot child praying in Latin. in a hallway cold marble costs the heavy silence of a deposit that no employee touches and that every new employee learns to respect before learning the reason. I I believe in God.

 I keep believing after everything I saw inside, perhaps even more than I previously believed. Because what 32 years within one cemetery I was taught is that there is a order in things that goes beyond what any man can control. and that try to control what is not meant to be controlled does not eliminate this order, only creates fractures within it, where things get stuck and suffer.

 When the service weighs more on a day, when I spend by court G and the cold is stronger than usual, I stop, close the eyes and ask for that seven with the sincerity of someone who has nothing else to offer. Furthermore, I don’t know if It’s no use, but that’s what I have. And if you you’re listening to this right now and there’s someone in your life you’re trying control for fear of losing, someone who you’re holding more than you’re letting exist, think of Ernesto.

 Think about what the fear of losing is capable of doing when disguises itself as protection. and let go, because the love that imprisons is not love, it is the shadow of fear with the name changed. And this shadow, as I learned in 32 years from block G, it doesn’t just stay with whoever was, stay with whoever stayed too and won’t go albeit alone.

M.