An Angelic Soliloquy

“Where were you?” is my soliloquy concerning angels.

“Why so capricious in whom you protect and whom you abandon?” I gnaw at the elusive beings with questions muttered under my breath.

As a child, I took comfort in your warrior wings and fierce protectiveness of your human charges. I never thought to question your devotion even as my father lie dying.

I took solace in the feather found outside my mother’s bedroom door the week of her death. I did question your absence as she suffered beyond comprehension during her last hours. My brother saw shimmers in the air above her bed, we all did, he announced your angelic presence as she took her last ragged breath.

I remained steadfast in my devotion when my eldest brother died alone, undiscovered for two weeks. He melted as all bodies do when the spirit leaves them. I took consolation in the thought that you were with him, his angels would not abandon him at the moment of his death.

When Doug’s young and beautiful dark-eyed sister died of breast cancer, and his brilliant and gentle brother died; I envisioned them being carried by heaven’s swiftest and fiercest warriors to a place of light and peace.

And then Justin. He was trapped upside down in a vehicle in a dark and cold pond. Justin who was gentle and kind, and you did nothing. No miracle. No angelic arms to lift him to the safety of the bank. No heavenly hand holding his head above water. Nothing.

I hear people say that guardian angels saved their children, then they look at me and wish they could swallow their words. I look at my surviving son, saved by a four-point racing harness when his car flew off the road and landed on its roof. A mystery how he survived. Angelic intervention or racing seats built for impact? God’s favor or solid engineering and design?

I studied and read as much as I could absorb about your angelic nature and purpose. I cringe when people tell me that God needed another angel so he took Justin. We don’t become angels when we die. Angels are angels and humans are humans. And if God needs more angels he should have thought of that when he was spinning them from his fingertips like so much stardust.

Justin was buried on your feast day, October 2nd, the Feast Day of the Guardian Angels. His spiritual director proclaimed that God had instructed his angels to prepare a feast, for his son, Justin, was arriving home that day. I took comfort in both the feast day and the dear friar’s words. Now they both sit like lead around my heart, deadening any sense of your presence or consolation.

I used to believe that you stood guard over Justin’s grave, so precious is the body even in death. I would thank you, when we were still talking, for keeping watch over him as he rested in the earth.

I can’t remember the last time I invoked your protection or requested your aid. My heart is covered in lead, immune to your entreaties for companionship and trust. You must court me with the fire of your love to melt the cold lead of my affection, enfold my few remaining loved ones in your wings and keep them from harm. Send me a token of your presence and affection to renew our ethereal bond and be patient. Be patient as I wrestle with doubt, be patient and guard me as the apple of your eye.