Home At Last

Here's another writing, and yes it does involve my mom, but you'll have to forgive me as it is one of the more pivotal events in my life and I have written quite a bit on it. But I think that this writing takes a different approach to the matter, I called it "Home At Last"

Have you ever wondered what kind of reception angels receive in heaven when they finally get to come home? I imagine that it’s a lot like someone coming home from a long trip, with lots of happy tears and warm hugs, there’s probably some balloons in the background and a few songs sung as the triumphant returning one enters through the swirling veil of this world and is greeted by familiar faces beaming at them. I’ve had cause to think about this scene a lot because I’ve known a couple angels in my time, all sorts of them actually. Some of them didn’t realize that they were angels, some did and were all the more radiant because of that knowledge, while still others were only partially aware of the divinity within them.
The first time I recognized the angels that are amongst us, I was actually very far away from the angel. I remember as I stared at the pale glass of the computer monitor as I read the words that seemed to strike me in the face. It was early July, and I was sitting in a small Internet café in one of the scummier parts of Mexico City with a sweltering heat beating down on us through the glass doors that opened up into a dirty street. I sat there in an uncomfortable chair in front of an aging computer and read the correspondence that I had received from my family.
I learned that day that a giant had fallen; a struggle with an old enemy had finally taken its toll and had carried him away. My uncle Don had passed away the previous week, having lost the fight against thyroid cancer and finally succumbing to the effects of the disease. It was at this moment that I first knew an angel had been summoned home. It took the knowledge of his death to make me realize this. It’s interesting to me that for some people, it requires a heavy shock to their system in order for them to begin seeing angels, for others it comes naturally and they can see them anywhere. Still for other people they just ignore the presence of angels in their lives, and when something frightening or difficult occurs they tend only to recognize the devils. At this moment, and from then on, I saw angels.
Another celestial creature that I have happened upon in my sojourns in life is my niece, a wide-eyed, loving creature that has yet to form complete sentences. What she cannot convey in words she more than makes up for in affection and simple brightness, her gaze carries with it such a look of absolute innocence and complete trust that it could melt the hardest of hearts. Her blue eyes and smiling mouth, mixed with her light, sun-kissed hair that seems to glow with the rest of her countenance, brings happiness wherever she is. She is the one that made me begin to wonder about how angels are received in heaven, for you see, she suffers from a rare genetic disease known as Spinal Muscular Atrophy, or SMA for short, and who knows how long God has loaned us this heavenly creature, for we know that she is sorely missed in those high courts.
My niece Whitnee is a beautiful little girl, even though she will never walk, the crippling disease that ravages her body forbids such, but the jealous affliction cannot conquer that angelic spirit that is within her. I feel that her gaze sees far more angels than I can ever imagine, and I like to believe that she can see the inner angel that all of us tend to miss in ourselves. She sits in her wheelchair and babbles on in her happy made-up language and occasionally allows us a chance to be a part of it when she looks at you and smiles as she chatters and says your name and then continues talking to the invisible companionship around her. I prefer to think that she is conversing with her saintly entourage and so when she mentions your name, be forewarned for you are being spoken of to a heavenly host. The precious time that she is here is one of glowing moments and glimpses of what heaven must be like. I know that the reception she will receive is one far more radiant than the most decorated war hero, or celebrated superstar could ever hope for.
Then there is one of the greatest angels I have ever met, my mother. This being was a great source of heavenly inspiration that touched so many lives. I recall many late nights spent talking about hard classes, difficult assignments, failed attempts at love, and good books. Many a tear was wiped away by her loving hands, so many wounds, both physical as well as spiritual, were calmed and robbed of their painful swellings before they became infected. In 2004, she went in for a fateful operation that would steal away forever her the voice that I had known my whole life, and replaced it with a raspy wheezing caused by a horrid tube sticking out of her throat like some white-headed serpent that hissed and sputtered with each intake of breath.
The awful surgery revealed a hideous infiltrator within her body; cancer. The same cruel beast that took my uncle now was encroaching on my beloved mother and personal saint. This tore at everyone in the family. My mother was devastated at the loss of her voice and of the impending battle she was facing. She could no longer sing to her precious grandchildren, midnight conversations with her children now seemed to be an impossibility. Life as she, and we, knew it had changed entirely. But even the destructive force let loose in her body did not deter the sacred spirit that she carried within her. She could still speak, even if it cost her to do so, and she worked puzzles with her grandchildren instead of singing, she learned to communicate in other ways beside speaking, now her conversations with her family were more animated and her happy excitement and good disposition made her an inspiration to many. She was never one to mince words and always made the most out of every situation. I still remember the words she spoke to my sister right before entering under the surgeon’s knife, the simple phrase that only angels are comfortable using. The words “I love you.”
Those three words sum up the entirety of this angel’s life, even in the following years after that fateful operation when her disease proceeded to consume the flesh that held captive the mighty spirit within, she never allowed her enthusiasm for life to drop. The last hours of her journey as a stranger here on this earth found her in a hospital bed, wires and tubes snaking into her body, providing the necessary sustenance that it required to survive just a few more minutes or hours. Her family was gathered around her, we each approached and she hugged each of us individually, rasping out a strained expression of love before moving on to the next child. Finally she arrived at her beloved husband, giving him one final embrace, she kissed him and pushed the words she so desperately wanted to say out of her mouth. “I love you.” She could only mouth the words, but the feeling behind them was so great and without bounds. I watched this scene unfold, telling my mother that I loved her as well, along with the rest of my siblings.
After these last loving embraces everyone departed but two of my brothers and my grandmother, as well as myself. I sat by my failing mother’s side she looked at me and tried to say something, but her breath was too shallow. My brothers had left the room and so I walked out to bring them in. When I returned, I knelt by her side and took her hand. As I watched the monitors that were checking her vitals, they suddenly gave a sharp drop as the sweet spirit that had inhabited that tabernacle slowly slipped away. Lowering my head, I began to weep as another angel was summoned home at last. I knew that the celebrations had begun somewhere else, a big parade with balloons and fellow angels welcoming their sister and daughter back.