Heaven's Newest Angel

Some several years ago I gave an angel gift to my parents. She was made out of wood and was a beloved addition to their screened in porch. She sat perched watching the various plantings grow and the occasional "waldo" zip around the enclosed area. Alas, as time marched on she became weathered from her exposure to the elements..... which made her look even more appropriate on the porch.

Time passed further. My parents made the lightening-flash decision to leave their FL home. Leaving behind their beloved porch to head north to live amongst my sister's clan, in a high-rise over looking the river. When we made a surprise visit a week ago, they'd already gotten the head-spinning news that their offer had been accepted and that the closing date had been scheduled. So they were in the mood to share some of the porch do-dads in preparation for their relocation.

We came home with the much-loved and weather-worn angel to perch upon our lanai ledge. Then it was off to Orlando for us, which is where we received the news that my amazing friend Saint had herself become an angel. Somehow surrounded by the grandchildren, there in the Magic Kingdom, the reality of the announcement was softened. When we got back to our own home the brunt of the news hit harder. I selfishly mourned our daily conversations and pep-talks. I already missed the sound of her voice.

I kept trying to convince myself the blessings: that Pat would suffer pain no more, her eyesight would be restored and her energy level would again abound with Her-culean proportions. While this should bring me a rejoicing sense of calm, I still wanted to pick up the phone and talk thru the week's adventure.

Out to the lanai to contemplate the evening's sunset. There was the weathered sculptural-assemblage to greet me, interrupting my feeling sorry for myself and my reverie about Saint joining the angel chorus all too soon. That's when my light bulb went on!

I decided right then and there to reclaim the weather-worn angel, with all of it's aches and pains, and to give her the full heaven's treatment of restorative love. Out came the paint brushes and the bags of flotsom & jetsom, the glue gun and mini-wire, the ribbons, the ric-rac, the buttons, beads and pompoms now filled my heart with glee and anticipation.

First she got coats and coats of paint, just as I imagined Pat's body being made whole. That took an entire day of focus. Then came the adornments. Saint had earned every adornment in heaven's treasure house by her earthly walk of acceptance -- all the while offering others encouragement and hope. She deserved the rainbow treatment. She had indeed earned her pink wings, a full head of hair and a generous set of melons.

So this is how I spent my Easter weekend. I did not fly to Beloit, WI to attend Pat's funeral. She'd made me promise her that I wouldn't. She had all sorts of reasons to get me to promise. Part mother-hen, part control-freak, part romanticist. She wanted me to remember her fully alive, completely filled with life and laughter. I promised.

Instead of traveling cross country I spent the weekend therapeutically immersed in an art project. One that periodically had me intrigued at my own willingness to "play and laugh" in the face of my loss. Our loss. The community's loss. The further I embellished, the more I knew that I'd received Pat's seal-of-approval. Her totem now has a place of honor on our living room wall. She will forever be my touch-stone. My mazuzah-of-sorts. Having a tangible physical rainbow-reminder will be just the parable I need to oversee the next chapter of my own journey.

Thank all that is right with the Universe that we had the great good fortune to meet. I miss you sweetie. I miss you dearly. You have taught me much & I intend to honor you all the days of my life. Strength and courage. Strength and courage. Strength and courage.