Elizabeth The Angel
Anabelle died yesterday at 6pm. She was exactly, having been born only seconds after midnight on Halloween, forty-four days and eighteen hours old. Her mother, Elizabeth, being one of awesomely rare spirits found on this earth, held her as her father held her sisters and let silent tears fall. He watched his wife as her warmth and love did what no medicine could, comforted his tiny sick daughter ~ quieted her crying and soothed her pain. Amazed and frightened by Elizabeth’s extraordinary strength and beauty. Anabelle closed her beautiful eyes and slept, bundled in the soft lavender blanket which had been her oldest sisters gift to her on the day she was born. When God took Anabelle home Elizabeth hugged her tightly and kissed her soft forehead, she held her hand out to her family and held them all in the safety of her arms. Her husband and his daughters, one without breath ~ her family which she loved.
When the people from the hospice came to take the baby away they wept. So used to finding the ruin and pain that only the death of a child can cause a family, so hardened against a mother’s agonizing cries or a father’s heart breaking choke ~ they were not ready to enter the home of this woman, they were not ready to believe in angels, as she made them do.
Elizabeth, her thin pink lips never losing their gentle smile, let her child be taken. Handing Anabelle over to a tall brunette nurse, and the way she delicately moved as though her daughter’s soul was still inside that small body and the overwhelming love and energy he felt from her when she placed her hand on his arm and whispered her appreciation for his coming out so late, those things made him a different person. He knew he’d never be the same, he knew he was better. He thought of going home and kissing his daughter while she slept, he thought he’d bring his wife flowers ~ tulips, she loved those.
As the people drifted away Elizabeth gathered her daughters into her lap, she kissed them both and told them that she was proud of them for they were both the best big sisters that Anabelle could have ever dreamed of. She took them to their bedroom and changed them into warm nightgowns. Together they said their prayers, the youngest squeezing her had as she thanked God for taking care of Anabelle. Elizabeth sat in their room, lit by the dim pink of their nightlight and hummed quietly until both her daughters slept deeply.
She walked down stairs and found her husband, crumpled near the Christmas tree, crying. She leaned over him and kissed his prematurely balding head. "Come to bed my love, Anabelle is safe and well ~ finally." When she said those words, her song like voice floating over him, her spellbinding vocals healing him, he believed her. He found the absolutely unfathomable thought that his dear sweet youngest had not been cheated, sold drastically short having been sick her whole terribly short life ~ that she had in fact had the best life ever. That she was in all reality safe now, well and happy, looking straight into the eyes of God, as only a child ~ truly innocent ~ could.
When Elizabeth slept a man came to her. A man so awfully pretty that he could have been a woman if it were not for his strong hands and his squared shoulders. His golden hair full and waved down to his waist. His white-blue eyes almost shown with as much light as the enormously full wings that hung from his back. He came to her and in his arms he held her daughter, her Anabelle. She was amazing, the rose in her cheeks, the strength in her tiny fist when she held Elizabeth’s fingers. She cooed and laughed as her mother kissed her and played with her plump baby feet.
For the second time Elizabeth handed her child over to a man, but this time she knew the peace that she had drained herself of as she gave it to all the others in her life. She kissed her Anabelle and she kissed her Anabelle’s angel. She knew that the sun was coming and that her family would always be good.
May the angels sing your song and the spirits tell your story ~
Anabelle
October 31'04 - December 15'04
When the people from the hospice came to take the baby away they wept. So used to finding the ruin and pain that only the death of a child can cause a family, so hardened against a mother’s agonizing cries or a father’s heart breaking choke ~ they were not ready to enter the home of this woman, they were not ready to believe in angels, as she made them do.
Elizabeth, her thin pink lips never losing their gentle smile, let her child be taken. Handing Anabelle over to a tall brunette nurse, and the way she delicately moved as though her daughter’s soul was still inside that small body and the overwhelming love and energy he felt from her when she placed her hand on his arm and whispered her appreciation for his coming out so late, those things made him a different person. He knew he’d never be the same, he knew he was better. He thought of going home and kissing his daughter while she slept, he thought he’d bring his wife flowers ~ tulips, she loved those.
As the people drifted away Elizabeth gathered her daughters into her lap, she kissed them both and told them that she was proud of them for they were both the best big sisters that Anabelle could have ever dreamed of. She took them to their bedroom and changed them into warm nightgowns. Together they said their prayers, the youngest squeezing her had as she thanked God for taking care of Anabelle. Elizabeth sat in their room, lit by the dim pink of their nightlight and hummed quietly until both her daughters slept deeply.
She walked down stairs and found her husband, crumpled near the Christmas tree, crying. She leaned over him and kissed his prematurely balding head. "Come to bed my love, Anabelle is safe and well ~ finally." When she said those words, her song like voice floating over him, her spellbinding vocals healing him, he believed her. He found the absolutely unfathomable thought that his dear sweet youngest had not been cheated, sold drastically short having been sick her whole terribly short life ~ that she had in fact had the best life ever. That she was in all reality safe now, well and happy, looking straight into the eyes of God, as only a child ~ truly innocent ~ could.
When Elizabeth slept a man came to her. A man so awfully pretty that he could have been a woman if it were not for his strong hands and his squared shoulders. His golden hair full and waved down to his waist. His white-blue eyes almost shown with as much light as the enormously full wings that hung from his back. He came to her and in his arms he held her daughter, her Anabelle. She was amazing, the rose in her cheeks, the strength in her tiny fist when she held Elizabeth’s fingers. She cooed and laughed as her mother kissed her and played with her plump baby feet.
For the second time Elizabeth handed her child over to a man, but this time she knew the peace that she had drained herself of as she gave it to all the others in her life. She kissed her Anabelle and she kissed her Anabelle’s angel. She knew that the sun was coming and that her family would always be good.
May the angels sing your song and the spirits tell your story ~
Anabelle
October 31'04 - December 15'04
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