Angels Danced
On the twentieth day of May 1930, an angelic soul was born, and the angels danced in Heaven, rejoicing her birth. She possessed a splendorous heart, and her aura shone with loving light. She had many hardships to endure in her youth, but she did so with grace, humility, and dignity, never abandoning her faith. She married a soldier whose heart was full of anger and rage, yet her love was enough for both of them, and she bore him thirteen children, of which I was the third eldest. I grew up with her love and his anger, and it molded me into the man I am today. Some years ago, my mother lay dying in her hospital bed; I gently held her hand and wiped away the tears trickling down my cheeks. Mum was my inspiration, my muse, my friend, my everything. She was kind, generous, patient, and loving, with boundless empathy, compassion, and faith. I couldn't have hoped for a better role model and I loved her dearly. I felt her hand squeeze mine, and then it went limp, and I knew her soul had left her body to join her maker. The angels danced in Heaven that day, welcoming a kindred soul back to God's loving embrace. And though my heart was crushed, I gave her one last kiss and bid her farewell, believing that one day we would meet again, and the angels would dance once more, leading me through Heaven's gate, where she and God would welcome my soul home.
death is no stranger
it needs no invitation...
souls welcome its knock
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