Once a year, there’s a day of remembrance,

a recollection of the times we had together.

Within those glimmering memories, I see a face,

so clear that I, for the briefest of moments, believe I can touch it.

After my sermons people ask me what you were like,

I tell them every detail and they cry.

The tears aren’t of sadness,

but of joy that your life had blessed us all.

There’s no amount of words that can truly define you,

at least, not that I can muster at this moment.

Maybe someday I’ll be able to articulate your true meaning,

but I, too, am getting older and do not know if that day will ever come.

I’m writing now because tomorrow is never promised,

and I must tell the world of your brilliance, lest it perish with me.

When Father passed, you were all I had,

my rock amidst the gale.

I can’t imagine what life would’ve been like without you,

you made me the person that I am.

Your influence transcends the physical world,

you radiate through me in every mannerism, in every thought,

you are alive still.

Some do not believe in the angels,

so be it.

I’ve seen them first hand,

I know what they are capable of.

The universe is much greater than we can ever imagine,

the battle of Light and Dark much closer than we realize.

However, if anything is to be gleaned from these words, I prefer it be optimism,

as there is nothing stronger against the forces of evil than hope,

hope for a better future and a gentler people.

You were a ray of Light,

your warmth shining down upon the fields of hate.

You were there when times were tough,

when I needed a shoulder to cry on.

You advised me when my mind was clouded,

guided me when the road ahead snaked and forked.

You were so many things for so many years,

I can’t even pretend to understand your role in my life.

You weren’t the Creator, but my creator.

You were, and still are, my guardian angel,

and you will forever be the only one I proudly call,

my Mother.

Happy Mother’s Day Everyone!!!

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The Angel is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Cover design by Winston Malone courtesy of Adobe Stock and Adobe Creative Cloud Express.

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