I believe in angels. I believe they “show up” when I’m seeking guidance. Comfort. Support. Sometimes nothing. But I believe. Angels guide me in the direction of truth. Awareness. Light. Faith. A rainbow. Clouds. A penny from heaven. Music. Or messages that repeat over and over. Whatever the shape, size, or entity, I just know. My angel is there. So I listen.
These past three weeks have been the second toughest of my life. Fighting the fight with my baby girl, Lucy. Reliving the horror of her attack. Evoking memories of Gregger’s passing in Hawaii. It all blended together. One after the other. I tried to find answers. Blank. Nothing. I kept sinking into a deep abyss of sadness. My heart ached. I felt empty. I couldn’t find my way out. I didn’t know if I would find my way. I didn’t know if I deserved to find my way. Maybe staying in the abyss was safer. I couldn’t really get hurt at the bottom. It seemed so unfair. But life isn’t fair.
And then my Angel came to me. Not in the form of rainbows, clouds, pennies, or songs. But in a tiny, furry body. Big, brown eyes. Perky ears. 1 pound, 14 ounces. Angel. There was an empty place in my heart. And she is filling it again. Her warm, wet nose. Her sweet kisses. Her snuggles. Some may think it is too soon. I hesitated telling people. What would they think? I’ve always worried more about others than myself. I’ll be selfish this time. I needed her.
I will never be “over” Lucy. She comforted me during my darkest moments. Renewed a spirit I believed was lost forever. I will always love her. Angel is not replacing her. But she is filling a void in my heart. A void in my life. I want to smile. Feel joy. She gives me a purpose. A reason to wake up. To come home. Love. She is my Angel. And she represents the beautiful “angels” who left this earth far too soon.