Sent down to us from somewhere up above.
They come to you and me in our darkest hours.
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give.
To guide us with the light of love.
― Lyrics from Angels Among Us (songwriters Don Goodman & Becky Hobbs)
"If instead of a gem, or even a flower, we
should cast the gift of a loving thought into the heart of a friend, that would
be giving as the angels give."
― George MacDonald, Scottish author and poet
A very special friend of mine would have turned 60
today. But she died in November after a
short and very courageous battle with leukemia.
She left behind a devoted husband and three children.
Growing up, I had known her as the beautiful older sister
of friends from high school. She was
gorgeous and glamorous, and we, the younger girls, imitated her terrific
fashion sense. Fast forward a couple of
decades: She was a teacher at my
children's school. We went on a
religious retreat together. We became
friends. And she became, quite simply,
my angel. She came into my life when I
most needed her.
Mrs. E, as the children called her, was that special
brand of teacher who gets the big picture, who understands that engaging
children is key to developing a lifelong
love of learning. Many children
considered her a special friend as well as a beloved teacher. The yearbook advisor, she had a special
relationship with the students, both the older ones as well as the younger
ones. She was awarded Teacher of the
Year posthumously and this last year book was dedicated to her.
She taught all of my children. When my son was in Kindergarten, she
introduced herself to the class and one boy said that her name sounded like
"pig." My son jumped in and
said, "It sounds like heart to me."
She was very touched by that and we began calling her Mrs. Heart. It was very appropriate.
My children loved going to her classroom after school. And it was hard to get them to leave. When
one of my children needed additional help -- less to do with academics and more
to do with self-esteem, she was there.
And the love she gave all of my children was boundless.
We frequently went to her house after school and she pampered
my children to no end. There were treats
(brownies and popcorn) and rides on her golf cart, which thrilled them. After one of her hospital stays last summer,
she invited my children over for an ice cream party. It is one of my fondest memories.
For me, she was like an older sister. I often thought that she saw me at my worst during
the late afternoons as I ran around harried, shuttling children
between activities. More than once, she
stayed with my three children, so that I could manage what I needed to do. She encouraged me to be a strong advocate for
my children. She always seemed to cross
my path -- literally -- when I was especially overwhelmed. Much more adept at technology that I could
ever be, she helped me with work projects and volunteer projects. When I showed up at her classroom after
school with a blinding migraine, she ran to the store to get me what I
needed. I always felt that there wasn't
anything she wouldn't do for me. And,
the remarkable thing is that I wasn't the only person who felt that way.
We had a great time together. We confided in each other. We discussed family, hair color and clothing. Neither one of us could go very long without
lip balm. We loved chatting in her
driveway, watching neighbors and their dogs go by. Enjoying the day-to-day. She was always so incredibly happy for me and
for my accomplishments, always giving me more credit that I felt was my
due. When she was sick, I tried to keep
my small challenges from her, but she saw right through me and insisted that I continue
to share what was going on in my life.
When people think about her, probably the first thing that
comes to mind is her smile, which reflected her amazing kindness. She really was one of those people who lit up
a room as she entered. But she never
sought the limelight. When she became
ill, she was overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from the school
community. All that love actually
surprised her. What did she expect? I asked her.
It made perfect sense to me. When
I went to see her in the hospital, her smile always greeted me and melted away
any apprehension I had about how she might be.
She maintained her sense of style and grace, and I told her that only
she could be such a "fashionista" in the hospital.
It was a shock when she died. I believed she would get better and hoped
that one day we would look back at this difficult phase in her life. Anything else was not fathomable. When her health began to fail that last week,
I kept praying for a miracle. On the afternoon
of what would have been my father's 75th birthday, her daughter texted me to
say that she was gone. After I shared
the sad news with my children, we all cried and we went to pray at the chapel where
she had frequently encouraged me to pray.
Sometimes, especially when I am at the children's school,
I feel her presence. It is like a breeze
that brushes past my face unexpectedly and makes me smile. One of the first times it happened, I went to
talk to one of her closest colleagues because I thought she might be the only
person who would understand. She
listened to me and smiled, and then told me she sensed her, too.
As I was leaving the church after a Memorial Mass for her,
I struggled to make sense of her passing.
On the way to my car, and almost without realizing it, I began to quietly
sing Angels Among Us. It occurred to me that she had been an angel,
showing me how to live, teaching me how to give and guiding me forever with the
light of her love.
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