“The Angels are here now …”
The clock illuminated 2:30am, “the Angels are here now” he repeated. He was sleeping next to his sister and the angels had come to see them. Was it because for the last two days I could see a sort of sullen return to her eyes again, the kind of glaze that only appeared when her sister was on her mind. I wanted to hold her hand for hours on end to let her know that her mother was going to be there every step of the way to comfort and guide her. She wouldn’t let me though, the moment was brief when she would show emotion, but inside I knew the missing piece was affecting her again.
I struggled daily as a mother to take away her pain and sadness, but there was only so much I could do to console her young heart. The silent tears had returned and it was as though her baby brother could feel the lonely return as he lay next to her sleeping. I watched them sleeping, hoping she could find peace while she slept. Had the angels come to wipe away her tears too, like I so often found myself doing when she would let me?
“The Angels are here” he said, and then the room was silent again.
William Adolphe Bouguereau – Song of the Angels (1881) – Public Domain
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