Someone Else's Angelversary

[We miss you, Gillaire.]

Three years ago, toward the end of October, my friend died of COVID. I'm fairly certain I blogged about it then. The other day, I realized we were coming upon her angelversary. My heart bled for her other friends and family, those who love and remember her fondly. She was so young, a little younger than I am now. She had always seemed so strong and resilient. She went through so much, including the loss of both of her beloved parents, legal trouble, housing situations, and so much more. It seemed like she would always be around. 

[How I met Gillaire.]

Just under two decades ago, I went into my master's program and was embraced with open arms to a group of friends, including the man who would become my husband. At the heart of that group of friends was Gillaire. She was a firecracker, full of zest for life and love. She loved everyone around her. Other people came and went from that group, but Gillaire was always a constant. 

[Cali and Gillaire, a matched set.]

Then, that group of friends moved onto other locations. We stayed in touch as much as we could. Gillaire even came to live with us a couple of times when she wasn't able to find somewhere else. She made our times together fun. That second time she stayed with us, she brought with her a dog for whom she lived. During that time, we worked together on a picture book, "Cali the Silly Frenchie Goes for a Walk." The stunning photography in it was hers. She loved photography, and this book showcased that. As her angelversary crept up on us, I redid that book so as to showcase her photography better. For a few days, you can see a copy for free if you click that link. We had also planned to put together more Cali books but never did. With the permission of her sister, I also put together a set of three books, including the one above, all about Cali, Cali the Silly Frenchie Collection. That, too, is free for now. Afterward, any proceeds will be offered to her sister. 

[Remembering Gillaire.]

I made a point to get a copy of it to both her sister and her beloved roommate. I was most of all thinking of them as I put these together, as well as of all the people who loved her. It seemed like the only thing I could do to pay tribute to my friend who was so steady and so loyal to everyone who loved her, plus this blog. There were so many. So many who feel her loss even these three years later. Shen she left us, she left a hole in all of our lives. I know she's back with her parents. I know she'll hold Cali again. In the meantime, Cali happily stays with that beloved roommate and seems happy. I'm so thankful I got to have Gillaire in my life. If you know her, feel free to comment here to remember her. 

Reminders of Mortality

 

[Cancer-source]

A woman I know, Tami Wickham, died of cancer, leaving behind her daughter and husband. I've seen her around for most of the last 13 years, including before I moved to my current home. I was never close with her, so I mourn for others, not for me. She found out about the cancer one month and was gone the next. I was working during the funeral, so I didn't make it. But I wanted to, if only to support others. I don't like funerals because of too many of my family's at once. It has become a trigger. But I would have gone if I could have. 

[Mourning-source]

Meanwhile, I visited a friend who was deeply mourning this lady. She felt the loss deeply because she truly knows the family. It feels like I've missed an opportunity by not trying hard to reach out, even when I knew death was coming. This friend of mine wept for the family who lost their loved one and also for the loss of her friend. Today, I have been surrounded by mourners. It makes me sad, but I still feel untouched. The fact that I don't feel it makes me realize I truly missed out on a real friend. 

[Loss-source]

Things like this remind me that today is all we have. We hope there will be a tomorrow, but there may not be for us and everyone we know and love. It's a cliche, but it's still true that tomorrow is not promised. Life seems so much more fragile when you've gotten beyond the fiction of "It couldn't happen to me." Loss can happen to any of us at any time. 

Even faith isn't an impenetrable shield. It means we trust God to guide us and help us in our lives, no matter what happens to us. He's not a light switch that stops the darkness from hitting us. It means we know He'll be there for us in the storm, not that there will be no storm. He's an umbrella that shields our hearts from the worst of the pain and comforts us when things are at their darkest. I'm thankful to have faith and hope in eternity. But I also know pain is part of life. And sometimes, it's part of the plan for us, part of what we need to help us grow into the person we need to be. I know it was part of mine. And I've grown a lot through the process, for which I'm grateful. 

How has loss touched your life? I'd love to hear from you. 

Quiet Spaces

[Finding Peace: source]

 Quiet spaces can be a blessing or a curse when you're in mourning. They can give you a chance to reflect on your loved ones, including the ones you're mourning. They can give you a chance to dwell on your blessings and joys. Sometimes, they can be your survival when the noises around you are loud with voices that aren't helpful, with questions or phrases that hurt you more than help you like when people are trying to tell you how to mourn or asking why you aren't over it yet. Or even asking how you are when the speaker doesn't want to hear the real answer. Quiet spaces can allow you to reflect, to meditate, to find peace.

[Alone in the Darkness: source]

But also, that reflection can also lead you to very dark places. People in pain can get self-destructive or filled with a maelstrom of painful feelings. Quiet spaces or even loud ones can feel painful when all you have are the curves of your emotional roller coaster taking you in and out of anger, pain, loss. Triggers are very real, thoughts, sounds, items, anything that triggers another loop on that roller coaster of grief. And when you're sitting in your quiet spaces, those loops can be overwhelming. With no one to hug you to help you hold your pieces in, no one to listen to your pain, these quiet spaces can be hard. If the person you lost is the only person who was there to listen to your pain, like a significant other or close friend or sibling or parent, these quiet spaces can echo particularly loudly. 

[Balancing Silences and Comforting Voices.]

When I was in the depth of mourning, I found it helpful to seek out quiet spaces but also to find a break from those quiet spaces. I sought those voices that supported me, the ones I could trust. I sought the voices, including the spiritual and internal ones, that brought me peace. I'd pray our read scriptures that brought peace inside my heart. That isn't a solution for everyone. Sometimes, finding a mourning support, counseling, or other group can provide that comfort. I found I needed a balance between quiet spaces and comforting voices. Ponder where you have quiet spaces when you need them and where you can find voices to help you survive the pain when those silences become too loud or agonizing. 

Flew by Fast

[The calendar: source]

This is the first time I didn't realize it WAS the angelversary. We planned a three-day trip as I said last blog to keep us busy and not thinking about the significance of the day. It worked better than I ever imagined. I hadn't been looking at either date or calendar and was quite positive the day was on Friday. I steeled myself for that day, ready to suffer it in silence. 

[Dino Museum: source]

Then, after the busiest day of the trip I found out the date. We'd filled the day with sleeping in a cabin that was also a bed and breakfast, a trip to a museum with Leonardo Da Vinci and dinosaur exhibits, wandering the tiny town of Virginia City, an exhibit in memory of the Vigilantes of Montana, who brought justice to murderous outlaws, including a sheriff, and then dinner and back to the cabin with a hot tub to hang out with our boy. It was in the hot tub at the end of the day that I found out that I'd already passed through the angelversary. 

[From her baby book.]

Usually, I spend days watching the date come. Then, we go on a trip, which I spend wincing as I ignore with little success what day it is. At some point in the day, we share pictures of our baby, and I break down. These are the consistent events that happen every time. I forgot the baby book, and I was in so much shock that I'd gotten the date wrong that I didn't have time to react. In some ways, it feels like I betrayed her that I missed these traditions. 

[Before he lost her to cancer]

But the next day, on the way home, I felt like some of that meaning inserted itself. I mentioned my pain and felt the beginnings of a breakdown. But then, my brother-in-law, who we took with us to hang out with his brother, broke down over his relatively recent loss of his beloved wife to cancer. It became an opportunity to mourn with one who is still mourning, two years later. His loss is fresh and still paralyzes him, leaves him feeling empty and lost. Mine is thirteen years old and leaves me the wisdom to listen instead of insert myself into his moment to just feel. It was good to mourn together. 

[Being there for someone else. Source]

I still feel a breakdown and the baby book in the very near future. But I know I won't suffer it alone. My husband and kids will be there to mourn with me now the kids are older and able to put their arms around me. It helps buffer the pain to have someone's arms around me for my pain, and it helps for me to have arms I can offer to someone else. 

Feeling a Kinship

 

[Celebrity; source]

I'm not one to be excited about celebrity. Yeah, I see them, know about them like anyone else. I have my favorites. But I don't spend a lot of time thinking about it. But when I hear about a celebrity losing a child or being a member of The Empty Arms Club, someone who has lost a child, I immediately feel a sense of kinship with them. It doesn't matter who they are, whether they be a massive Hollywood celebrity or a minor singer. I immediately feel empathy and a connection with them because of the loss of my baby. 

[Death, the great equilizer; source]

Loss seems to be the great equilizer. We, as humans, are so different in so may ways, with money, position in society, careers, health, gender, race, etc. But when loss hits, we all experience much of the same pain, many of the same emotions, much of the same grief. Everyone experiences loss differently and deals with mourning in an individual way. But there are definitely similarities. 

[Grief; source]

I'm not a believer in the "Five Stages of Grief" because there's nothing stage-like or predictable about how grief hits. Based on my experience, we can be hit with anger, numbness, etc. in rapid succession or even all at once at the same time. From what I understand, there's no real scientific evidence that these stages have any basis in truth. When I first heard them after I lost Alli, I held to them like a lifeline, found comfort in them because I knew once I hit that end stage, the pain would be over. But I can find peace a joy briefly then be launched back into the maelstrom. From what I've seen in others, I'm not alone. Grief is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and life-changing. no matter who you are and how you experience it. 

[Reaching out; source]

Grief builds a connection between humans. It can be very isolating, but it can also teach us to be more understanding of others' experiences if we let it. We can feel a connection with anyone else over our pain and our loss. The question is what are we going to do about it? Are we going to allow that empathy to teach us how to reach beyond ourselves to others who have lost?

Survived the Holidays

[surviving a broken heart-source]

Well, we've survived. That sentence wouldn't make sense to those who have never suffered a life-changing loss. To many of those people, it seems the holidays are a time of joy and celebration. However, to those who have experienced a major loss, just surviving the season may mean something. The holidays can feel like a painful weight as we ponder the hole in our hearts where a loved one used to be. It's like walking into their birthday or the anniversary of their death, only it lasts two full months. 

[Angel's Jar-source]

Most years, I survive by actively seeking out ways to serve others, so I could fill my angel jar with slips of paper that represent my gifts to her.  This year, I was so burned out from serving others and work over the last semester that I didn't have it in me to work as hard at it.  I did serve some and still put slips in a jar, but it wasn't as full as usual. I can't help but wonder if some people could have had a brighter Christmas if I tried harder.  But this year, it was all I could do to survive and work on getting as much of a break as I could to try to recover from the very real, tangible burnout.  

[Love from the source]

I did do a few things with friends and family which was nice.  We made some memories.  But once again, it was hard to summon the motivation to work at it.  So it was a peaceful holiday but not quite as fun or memorable as most.  Mostly, though, I'm thankful to have survived and am wondering why I don't have more to show for the two weeks of break.  I'm understanding a bit more of why my kids don't want to do much over the holidays.  They're so burned out from school that anything we do for fun feels like work.  I know the important thing is we did celebrate the Lord and that we did it together.  I'm sure my angels were here, too. I just have to remind myself that I will hold them again and be healed from the hurt because of the gift of the Son.  And for now, that knowledge, and the very act of survival, will have to be enough.  

Watching Another's Loss

[Teddy bear for child loss-source]

Many years ago, I met a fellow traveler, a friend of my sister.  She had one beautiful daughter and had a son who died just before he was to be born.  She impressed me with her firm faith, how she had even spoken to her unborn, how she knew he was right there with her and often saw signs of him all around her.  Her loss was so much fresher than mine, yet she seemed more advanced in the healing path than I was then and even than I am now.  She was a pillar of trust and belief to me, one who just knew she would hold her baby again and who held her angel close to her even as she couldn't hold his physical body.  

[I can't even see her face without pain.]

Meanwhile, I still feel like a lost soul.  The way I survive day to day is to not think of my angel, not look for her, not do the things that give this friend comfort.  Because when I look at images of my beautiful Alamanda, it takes me back down the dark path of thinking of people who tried to steal my family, of DCSF agents who created a false image of us through intentional deceit in order to destroy my family.  It takes me back to those months when I almost lost everything, when those I trusted turned on us, and even family members invented lies to try to tear our world apart.  It's at those moments I realize that part of the pain is still an open wound, that I'm not sure how to go about forgiving those from whom I will never hear an apology.  

[Surrounded by angels-source]

Allamanda's image also brings me back to miracles when the Lord, Himself, promised angels to help us through.  He promised and delivered the words we would need to redeem our names at just the right time. His Spirit in the room brought tears to the eyes of some of those who heard us explain our side of the story and the truth in the face of lies.  It brings me to the moments when the enemy intentionally laid a trap for us, telling us we wouldn't need a lawyer the day we could have gotten one and then sent us the paperwork the very next day, to ensure we would not get the legal aid we needed for that Monday morning.  Yet the Lord sent us someone to defend us. I see the pain, but I also see the miracles.  

[Grudges like poison-source]

These complications do not mean I can't be healed like my sister's friend. But there's a lot of healing that still hasn't happened, likely because I haven't yet figured out how to let the pain and anger go.  I know the theory that keeping a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other guy to die.  Holding onto that pain will never hurt them and only will hurt me.  But just when I think healing is all but there, a trigger slaps me in the face and helps me realize I'm not there yet, even over 11 years later.  

[Expecting..but what to expect? Source]

This friend, after years of miscarriage and loss with which I can relate, finally became successfully pregnant a few months ago.  She posted her joys and her progress with her new and exciting pregnancy.  Her now-teenaged daughter was giddy with delight.  Their little one came...stillborn.  Another angel to join the first and all the ones in between.  And once again, they met the loss with pain but also an outpouring of love, an understanding they will hold this baby, too, again.  

[Another funeral. Source]

I would be destroyed, absolutely destroyed.  I only attend funerals if I can't avoid them.  Maybe I took the coward's path in backing away from loss after loss after loss.  After 15 miscarriages, I realized my body would not carry another baby, so my husband and I prayerfully gave up.  When I realized the sentence "I'm expecting" didn't end in "baby" but ended in "blood," I knew we were not meant to hold any more live children until the Lord comes again.  We accepted the gift of the angels and children we've been given.  We know we'll see them, hold them one day and gave up on the dream of our rainbow. I was delighted this friend would be greeting her own rainbow, having no idea that she'd be having a funeral instead.  

[A candle for death and rebirth-source]

I saw those images of smiling faces as they held heir baby with blue lips and purplish face and knew I'd be shriveling inside. There would be yet another jagged, bloody hole where my heart should be.  I don't know how they do it, especially this time of year.  I know there's so much more to the story than I could ever see or imagine.  I wish I could be joyous like that in the face of loss.  For now, I'll have to be thankful to know such heroes exist and that we can all have hope in holding our loved ones again, thanks to Christmas and the One we celebrate this season. 

Another Angelversary Came and Went

[The tiny coffin I will never forget]

On June 29, as it does every year, the Angelversary came.  My brother had just had a close brush with death when a car hit him while he was on vacation.  He's recovering now and will probably go back to full functionality at some point, which is a miracle.  Mortality was fresh on my mind as I entered the Dreaded Date.  I'd been keeping so busy that I was mostly able to ignore it until it came upon us.  I had one brief crying bout the night before when Mom called and in the morning when I was posting my dread and her pictures on FaceBook.  Mostly, I had held up well.  But I knew the real tears were yet to come. They had to be.  It's part of mourning and loss.  

[Temple-Source]

After that, we were finally able to go back to the temple on Alli's day.  It's either been on a weekend or during COVID for the last free-flow years.  It was good to be able to do that for her, and I thought of her as we did it.  

[4-Wheeler]

Then, after that, it was all about keeping our minds off the pain, as we do every year.  We've been to Lava Hotsprings, Craters of the Moon, Bear Lake, Yellowstone National Park, and several other places on that day, doing anything but stay home and stew.  This time, we went up the canyon near our house and rented a four-wheeler for almost four hours, taking a couple of cousins with us.  Most of it was an adventure as we shot up dirt roads, inhaling dust, as we saw sights like a plane crash zone and an obscure lake we'd never seen before since they are so far off the beaten path.  It was boring and fun by turns.  I think my favorite part, other than spending time with family, was smelling the wildflowers, fields and fields of them with a medley of pungent aromas.  

 

[Her peaceful face not long before she left us, holding a doll that looks like her.]

It wasn't until we got home, and I pulled out Alli's baby book that the tears flowed freely.  They hit like a wall, all the way through her book with her happy face and bright eyes.  The worst part was when I got to her cold, waxen face and that tiny coffin.  Just twenty or so pages in.  Too short a time.  I lost it and cried harder than I have in a long, long time.  But they were good tears, healing tears.  Even with the ending, it will still go down in memory as one of the better angelversary days because we spent it together, I didn't have to mourn another death, and starting the day with the temple visit reminds us we will hold her again and be together forever.  

Close to another Death

[close call-source]

Even as my baby's angelversary looms in a very few days, my dear brother came close to death.  He darted through a dark, apparently clear road in Hollywood to find a restroom and was slammed into by a car.  The officials told him he was lucky.  Almost always, any car-on-pedestrian accident like that in that area results in death.  His step-kids watched the accident and will probably need therapy.  His natural kids and the rest of us could only stand by helplessly as we heard second- and third-hand.  Since his kids had just lost their mom a couple of years ago, I can only imagine how their hearts clenched within them when they heard their dad had been hit by a car and that he was in the hospital with a head and leg injury. Especially the head part.  Too many head injuries don't end well.  

[The Bionic Man in pieces-Source]

After the rest of us heard via FaceBook, Leo's natural children all chatted with him for four hours on a conference call.  I know it soothed their immediate fears of loss to hear him talking and joking with them through the night.  We even heard back from him after the surgery on his leg and his torso.  He's now the bionic man, as his kids joked.  But I'm sure it haunts us all to think how close we came to another tragedy. 

[Cherish the love-source]

Which all brings me back to Tuesday, that upcoming wall of pain.  I'd forgotten that my buddy's husband died just two days before Alli's angelversary (leaving behind her and their two kids), but she reminded me again today with her FaceBook posts celebrating his life.  It's just a rough time for us and for her. But all of these factors, my brother's brush with mortality, my friend's loss, and my own, remind me to cherish the times we have with friends and family.  To be grateful for the loved ones I've been given. To not take for granted a single moment. Also, that late June is just not a safe time to go anywhere or do anything. Kidding about that last part.  But I am truly grateful for the time I have with those I can hold today. 

Happy Mother's Day?

[source]

Mother's Day is one of those holidays that is such a mixed bag for so many people.  It's a time to remember mothers but also a time for mothers to remember children.  For women with darling children all around, or for women who have older children living nearby, it's a time to pull children close as they embrace her and give her gifts from the heart.  For those whose children and/or grandchildren live far away, it's a hard day. For single or married women who never had kids or who have never had the chance to hold any of their kids who came and went, it's often a time to be keenly aware of what and whom they don't have.  For women who have emotionally lost children in whatever way, it's a time of pain and reminders.  For those who have lost a wife and/or mother, it's a day of sadness. For those whose babies have fur, it can be a time of joy and/or sadness, depending on which side of the rainbow bridge they're on.  For women like me who have angel children, it will never be the same.  As with Christmas, we'd like to think of it as a day for simple joy, but that joy can be complicated or absent. 

[source]

But it's also a day to remember and embrace the bond we do have with relatives and friends and animal companions.  It's easy to get so focused on whatever you're doing, whatever feels critical at the time. But times like these, and, ideally, every day, it's a thing of power to stop whatever we're doing and truly just live in the moment.  It's a time to cherish and hold your human children or fur babies close, to not push them away because they don't fit in our schedules.  

[source]

Even just a few years ago, I found myself pushing away from human and animal children alike, finding their clinginess frustrating.  I was busy.  Why couldn't they understand?  I had a dog of my own for the first time and found him annoyingly needy because I'd always been a cat person.  But then, I had a moment of realization.  I was the one who didn't understand.  They just wanted me to love them.  That's all they wanted.  So I opened my heart and fully embraced their arms or paws reaching out.  I found all my love was returned in spades.  It was so worth it.  It somehow hurt so much more to lose a baby to whom I'd given my whole heart. But it was worth it because of those four months of pure joy.  

[source]

I hope that whatever your status as a mother, as a parent, as a child, you can find joy on this day of reminders and, better yet, that you can give joy to those you love most, whether they be here or beyond the veil.  That is, after all, what this day is about.  Happy Mother's day.  

Easter for Me

[Easter of my childhood-source]

What does Easter mean to you? I meant to get this out on Easter, but it's been a busy week.  I grew up loving Easter mostly because of candy, the Easter Bunny, oh, and as a footnote, a celebration of Jesus.  It was just a fun day, and it showed we were close to summer, closer to freedom.  I imagine I wasn't alone in seeing it that way.  It always seemed like a fun, safe, holiday, not nearly as interesting as Christmas, but still passable.  Christmas, meanwhile, was a good day to remember Jesus, yes, but it was also the most fun time for food, family, and giving.  They were important to me, but I didn't have a clear vision of their purpose. 

[Color gone-source]

Just after I lost my baby, the days transformed.  Christmas, with its songs about babies and giving birth, became painful.  Easter became another day to remember when  I'd held my baby.  I watched the joy in everyone else and wondered where mine was.  They both became days when she should have been there, when a third child should have been reaching for the baskets and candy and eggs to dye.  They were days with big holes in the middle, black holes that sucked the life and color out of days around them.   

[The source of love and joy: source]

Since then, I have been making a study of what brings joy and peace.  And what I've learned is it all comes back to the healing hand of Jesus in my life and the lives of others, whether they're fully aware of it or not.  He is the source of all true peace, all true joy.  Joy is a shared happiness.  Our joy grows when we serve and love together.  Now, I see Christmas and Easter as two ends of the same glorious holiday.  They celebrate how He came into this world as a tiny, helpless little one, willing to grow up like the rest of us and willing to suffer our suffering, guilt, and agony, willing to die in pain, and then overcome death, pain, and sin for us, for each of you, for me, for you.  In these two holidays, we celebrate that our love and our life doesn't end here, that we can have joy in spite of our pain, and that we always have hope in the future.  Now, these days are truly days of shared joy, even when they're painful.  Because of these days, I will be with my angel Alli again and forever. Now that I understand them, these holidays mean so much more. 

Facing the Holidays

[Family]

Here we go again.  Is it just me, or does it feel like we had the holiday season just happened a week ago?  Maybe two.  As usual, the melancholy creeps on as I consider who is and who isn't here.  I consider my two beautiful and intelligent children I can still hold.  I reach out for my husband, and he's there.  My sister moved next door just recently, so I even have extended family nearby.  I have a home, good jobs, gifts and talents to share, fluffy animals to love.  I'm so blessed. 

[Christmas]

Yet, as the holidays creep on, the hole in my reality is almost palpable.  I've lived nine Christmases, ten if you count the one before she filled my arms, without my angel and not one with.  I never got the anticipated first Christmas or second or third.  As the blessings build up under the tree, as loved one pull closer, it's still hard to hear singing about babies and angels and not think of my angel baby.  I know I'm not alone.  Holidays tend to be hard on those in mourning, no matter whom they have lost.  The presence of everyone else somehow amplifies the sense of absence.

[Baby]

Yet, Thanksgiving is for giving thanks for what and whom we still have, for the gift of time we did get with our loved ones, no matter how short that time was.  It's a time for a spirit of gratitude, even for our challenges.  Christmas is for celebrating the One who overcame death and sin, so we could one day live together as families forever, so we can one day be reunited and never parted again.  Why is it then so hard, hurt so much?  It's part of mortality.  I'll try to celebrate Thanksgiving, giving thanks for my angel.  I'll start my angel jar, the gift we give our angel every year.  It's a jar of slips listing the gifts and service we as a family offer to others.  We will celebrate the holidays as we have and celebrate the gift of our angel and all she does for us. 

Pleading for Peace

[source]

I went to visit my nephew yesterday, the one who was emotionally destroyed by his mother's loss a few months ago.  You have to understand that this nephew tends to only believe what he sees.  He's never considered himself religious.  But the burden of his loss grew so heavy that he turned upward.  He plead for peace like his life depended on it.  In some ways, it does because he has been simply existing, an empty shell.  It has been months since he's actually lived his life.

[source]

But then he plead for peace.  He sought hope, a sign, something that would help him move beyond the void of his existence.  And that night, his mother's voice came to him.  He heard her reassuring him, encouraging him, sharing the love he had craved as badly as a starving man craves food.  His late dog was there, sharing his love, supporting him.  His brother even felt the thump of the tail. As my nephew spoke of this experience, tears sprang to his eyes, and he did something that awed and inspired me: he bore testimony of God.  It was beautiful and intense.

[source]

I am a religious person, but I haven't had this kind of experience.  I have read scriptures and prayed.   I have sought both joy and peace.  But I can't say that I've put this kind of passion and intensity into my prayers.  And it may be this is a gift God knows he needed but I do not.  Angels speak by the power of the Spirit.  And the words she spoke to her son sounded like her voice.  The Spirit was strong in the room when he shared his story.  I have no doubt this was his mother speaking to him because he needed it.  He needed her hope, her strength, her love.  In a way, I envy that experience.  I'd love to hear my angel's voice.  But I haven't sought that gift with my whole heart.  And I probably haven't needed it like he did.  God knows what we need.  And if we plead with Him, it may take a while or it may be fast, but He will answer.  Sometimes, that answer is no.  And sometimes, as it was for my nephew, that answer is yes.  And if, by some chance, we do have the sacred experience of such a gift, we get it for a reason.  Now, it's up to my nephew to embrace that gift, the gift of hope and the reminder of his mother's love, a love that can sustain and motivate him to live again.