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Angel's Song

The sun shone in through the curtains, bathing the small, musty room in warm light. It was sunny that day, like it was mocking me. I would have felt better if it were a rainy, dull sort of day. I looked over at the bed in the middle of the room when Sam stirred.
“Leah?” he asked in a quiet, week voice.
“I’m here, Sam,” I said and sat next to him on the bed. I fingered the old quilt on the bed, tracing the patterns and designs.
“Do you hear that, Leah?” Sam asked suddenly. I looked over at him, his blue eyes where wide.
“Hear what?” I asked because I heard nothing.
“Wait, just wait…” Sam sat up a little straighter.
I listened hard.
“There it is again!” Sam said as he smiled slightly.
“I don’t hear anything,” I said.
“You don’t hear them?” Sam asked.
“Hear what?”
“The angels, Leah. I hear the angels.” Sam closed his eyes and lay back on the big, white pillows. His face glowed and he smiled as if he really did hear the angels’ beautiful song. I listened again, hearing nothing.
“Do you remember when you told me about the angels?” Sam asked.
I nodded. That was a good day. Of course, all of those days where good when Sam was well. He had gotten sick back in spring. Now it was summer and the heat seemed to make him worse.
We sat in silence for a while. I went back to tracing the patterns on the quilt, soaking up all of the memories tucked into it.
“What’s heaven like?” Sam asked suddenly.
“I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think anyone knows for sure,” I said. I held his small hand in mine.
“I will,” he said and he closed his eyes.

The funeral was small and short. The preacher said good things about Sam and about heaven. I wanted to add a thousand things about Sam when he was done talking, but Aunt Holly kept me quiet. A bell tolled somewhere in the distance, sending its lonely message to the town.
“Can I stay here for a little while?” I asked my Papa when the service was done.
“Yes,” he said. He had tears in his eyes.
Soon I was alone in the graveyard, standing at the foot of the grave where my brother’s body lay. A single stone angel kept watch over the cemetery, serving as my only company. Its wings were chipped and worn by years of standing there.
“Did you really sing for him the day he died?” I asked it, my tears falling silently.
The angel’s eyes stared ahead, knowing, caring.
“Where is my brother now? Is he in heaven?” I asked the angel.
Suddenly I felt foolish talking to a statue. It could not answer me. And now my best friend, my brother, could not either. He was gone forever. A new flood of tears came then and I turned and ran home as fast as I could.
“Leah, do take care!” my mother said when I pushed through the big wooden doors of our house. I looked up into her face. She looked at me angrily but her eyes where red from crying.
“Do you miss him?” I asked her.
“Oh, Leah. I loved you two more than anything in the world,” she said and knelt on the floor in front of me. She brought me to her and hugged me close. Her tears left a damp spot on my dress. “My angel,” she said as she smoothed the curls from my face.
“I didn’t hear them the day he died,” I whispered
“Sam did?” Mother asked.
I nodded. Mother smiled through her tears.
“They met him on heaven’s door step,” she said dreamily.
What a beautiful sight Sam must have seen.

It was a month before I visited the stone angel again. Dark clouds moved over the sky and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. I had brought flowers for Sam – red ones, his favorite color.
“Make sure they don’t blow away,” I told the angel. I place them on his grave as the rain began to fall. It fell softly at first, washing off the dust from my shoes and hands. I looked up at the angel. The rain gathered in its open hand. I took a red flower from Sam’s grave and placed it in the small pool of water there.
“Look over Sam, please,” I whispered in its ear.
Suddenly I heard it: the soft singing of an angel. The sound flooded through me, both beautiful and terrifying. I knelt on the ground by the angel, the rain falling on my head and shoulders. I cried there, letting the rain and the music wash over me.
I was soaked to the skin by the time I stood up. But I didn’t mind, the rain had washed away my sadness.
“Thank you,” I told the angel and I ran all the way back home as fast as I could. I didn’t see the angel smile after me, but I could feel it.

Written by: Erin H.