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Angels in the Park
 Love's Embrace by Jamie Carte |
He didn't want to die alone. I promised he wouldn't. As the death watch began, dutiful phone calls were made to my siblings, asking them to contact other relatives and friends. Soon people began arriving, each offering to take a turn at his bedside. He was never alone in those last two weeks.
My father was high in the priesthood of the Mormon church, but, more importantly, he was deeply spiritual and lived accordingly. His last wife, Edith, preceded him in death by several years. Bedridden for a full year, he was eager to see Edith and talked of other work to do. He spent as much time comforting us as we did in return. I longed for his courage.
Two days before his death, he began to drift in and out of consciousness. It was difficult for him to talk; his lungs were filling with fluid. I moved closer to the bed, holding his hand, letting my head rest at his side. He wiped my tears when he could.
Exhausted, I finally had to move away, curling up in the other bed, thankfully empty. While I slept, my sister, Linda, arrived to find him gesturing with joy toward the window. "Light, light."
Sunshine streamed through the curtains. A nurse, Linda knew hospital procedures but decided to ignore them in favor of his happiness. His bed rolled easily until he rested under the window where he could bask in the sunshine. Only afterwards did she realize the light had moved to a different spot. Linda was the first to perceive the angels were near. She said nothing, fearing others would laugh.
Melody, another sister, stayed with Dad and I that night. We didn't talk, preferring to sit in silence while he slept. I wasn't surprised when my glasses fogged over. It happens every time my eyes begin to mist. I wiped them, but the fog remained. Melody, who wears contacts, was laughing. "You too?"
 Two Angels by Charles Franfioi Sellier |
As I grew accustomed to their presence, I could discern their personae. I sat with my father almost constantly; so did they. Perhaps that is why I was blessed with an encounter that transcended this earthly realm and touched upon eternity.
We were alone, he and I. He sank deeper into unconsciousness, struggling out of it only briefly. His voice faded into silence. I yearned to hear him speak one more time, feared a life without his wisdom to comfort me. I could feel the angels -- there were several -- waiting just behind me. Their radiant light hovered in the corner. I didn't need to look. From the corner of my eye, I watched them slide in and out of my line of sight. Silently I thanked them for coming to help his crossing. Suddenly he opened his eyes, looked over my shoulder, and said, loudly, clearly, startling me with his vigor. "I am hurrying. I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you."
Without even a glance at me, he shut his eyes again. I knew he was talking to Edith. I could feel her energy, her happiness, her strength. I turned, hoping for a glimpse, but she was evasive. Only the sparkling light shimmered before me.
An hour later, he opened his eyes and gestured for me to come closer. I did. He spoke, again clearly, but with difficulty, "Let me go."
Blinking back tears, I lied. "I'll miss you, but I'll be fine. You don't need to stay for me."
He appeared satisfied, although he must have known my heart didn't agree. Looking directly into my eyes, he smiled and nodded. An invisible beam, more powerful than any laser, pierced my soul, traveling with a breathtaking intensity on the path from his eyes to mine. I was bathed in light -- filled with love too full and deep to measure. Unable to move, I felt nothing else, didn't want it to end. It lasted only moments but held me close to eternity. It was a fusion between us, coming through him from God.
 Guardian Angel by Joadoor |
Days before his death, I, the orphan to be, sobbed in Brother Christianson's arms, "But what will happen to me?"
I didn't cry when he left because I knew: he didn't die. I've felt him here when I needed him most. His chair began to rock the night he died and has rocked several times since. It is hard to believe seven years have passed. It seems as if we parted only yesterday. Our last moments are still vivid, still changing my life. Until recently, I struggled for words to describe the angels. Their light was a soft glowing, iridescent like miniature rainbows encased in drops of dew--but those words didn't come until I saw the rainbows in the park.
I walk regularly. When grief moves close, I talk to him. Several times, just when the tears begin to fall, the park sprinklers suddenly turn on. Beautiful rainbows -- crystal clear, yet filled with intense color -- appear, dancing in rhythm to the sprinkler's arc. The other day, two sprinklers kept turning together, and the twin arcs of the rainbows closed into a single circle, with both ends at my feet. Soaked, I stood there in the artificial rain until the sun moved and the rainbows faded. As I turned away, the sun glittered through the branches of a tree with the same iridescent glow. Raindrops full of rainbows dripped from its leaves.
The iridescent drops invited me in, beguiling me with their timeless magic. Their vibrance explained the essence of mythological legends: sparkling fairy dust, celestial visions and infinite hope. The rainbow is God's promise, the Biblical story relates. Yes, it is -- a very personal promise at that.
