The other day Papa, Breezy, and I were riding down a rode that had a perfect view of a beautiful blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Breezy asked, ” Do angels jump from cloud to cloud in the sky?” “Yes,” I answered without pausing, although I hadn’t expected this line of questioning. ” But what if they fall through to the blue part?” ” Oh they don’t,” I said quickly,” they are very light; they don’t weigh much.”
“Can you hold them in your hand?” she asked. Oh my. I never thought of that one. Hmmmm. I don’t know how to answer. “Can you hold them in your hand?” She repeated. Papa said, “Yes you can!” Whew! Good save. I don’t know what I would have said.
We had just left our house where Breezy had snuggled up on Papa’s lap and told him how much she missed her PawPaw. He’s another of her grandfathers who passed last summer. Maybe this angel conversation came out out of missing PawPaw. I don’t know.
It’s been difficult for me to write this year, in January, since the passing of our friend Butch on January 1. Butch was really one of my husband’s best friends, not mine, but seeing him so sick on Friday, knowing that he went to sleep on Friday night and never woke up again, having passed 15 minutes into the new year on Sunday, has left me grieving deeply. Butch was one of 14 people who came to our wedding some 24 years ago.
Butch was 53 when he died, but even after having fought multiple myloma for nine years, lying in that hospital bed in his own den he looked barely 40. He smiled and tried to laugh and his eyes sparkled. He remembered every event and story we reminded him of, and the ones that were the funniest of all he would say, “no I have no idea what you’re talking about,” but his eyes would shine. He kept his sense of humor til the end.
I left the house that day and I said to my husband, “It’s times like these I really hope there is something more to life than this. Please let there be more to it than this.”
He said, “that’s where you’re faith comes in.” “I know, I said, and I do have faith. But sometimes it just scares me that he’s just going to die and there won’t be anything else.”
“You know there have been too many incidences of people dying who say that someone comes to get them.” “I hope so, I hope Smitty (Butch’s father) comes to take him home.”
“Well,” he reminds me,”We know Butch was baptized because we baptized him.” I smiled and said, “We sure did, in the Atlantic Ocean.”
It seems precious Breezy believes in Angels, they jump from cloud to cloud. They are light and airy. I don’t who she thinks they are or what their purpose is, but maybe someday soon I will ask her.
Gigi must get her own faith in order first; for some reason it is a little wobbly around this time in life. I’ve had a tough time choosing a new year’s resolution. It seems that it came out of my own writing. That so often is the power of writing. My resolution for 2017 will be to relearn the foundation of my faith so that next time I am faced with death I will not have to wonder if there is something more.
I will be able to shout with the angels, “Halleluhah! Of course there is something more!”