A while back, Asher, my oldest son who is six years old, asked “Are angels real?” It was a fastball without warning. “I’ve never seen one,” came my unpracticed response that attempted to be honest without limiting or prescribing reality. But, it bothered me. I’d bunted — whacking the question far enough away to be safe, but lacking the loft of insight or guidance. The worst part is that it wasn’t my own truth. So here’s my take two.
Yes, my sweet boy, I believe angels are real. I have hugged and kissed and cried and laughed with a few myself. They’re as common as sunshine and as enchanting as a moonbow. While the drawings and paintings you’ve seen of cherubs floating with halos and wings clearly depict their power and grace, they’ve done little to help me find them here on Earth.
Not a single angel I’ve known has had a circle, oval, or glowing doughnut floating above their head. Each has bathed me in warm light making me feel brighter and closer to my kindest, calmest self, even so. None had a single feather either. Nevertheless, when I’ve needed it most, these kind beings have picked me up higher than the high wall of sadness and given me a break from its soggy weight.
Like now, I need it most because I miss my mom, your Yai Yai, who left us too early. Yet, angels have gathered with their time and talks and walks and texts and wine, and comfort, with names like Jordan, Kathryn, and Kathleen.
Simple everyday names – everyday people to many, but not to me. This, my sweet boy, is the potential of friendship. No less.
Robynne Boyd is the Co-Founder of Goodgrief App, the social network for loss. It is now available for less than the cost of a latte in the iOS App Store, Google Play and www.goodgriefapp.com. You can follow Goodgrief App on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.