A lone figure walked across the beach just as the sun was fading from the sky, her bare feet imprinting the wet sand near the ocean. Stopping, she turned dark eyes out to the sea for a moment before looking back from which she had come and tears stung her eyes. Only one set of prints where there had once been two. She wanted to feel like it was unfair but in all honesty, she knew it was perfectly fair. They had accepted this years ago as what they had both wanted, knowing that one day it would come to end for both of them. She had just never thought that she would be the one alone.
“Mom?”
Monica turned her eyes to see her daughter approaching her. Grace had grown into a beautiful young woman who now had a family of her own. She managed a faint smile, a wisp of her white hair coming loose from the bun on her head and blowing softly against her wrinkled face.
“How are you doing?” Grace asked softly, slipping her arm through her mother’s, her green eyes showing grief and concern.
The tears continued to sting as she met her daughter’s gaze, “You’re eyes are the exact same color as your dad’s. Have I ever told you that?”
Grace’s eyes shimmered as she smiled sadly, “Only my whole life, mom. You always told me I had my father’s eyes,” Her voice trembled slightly, but she managed to hold herself together. As deeply as she was grieving, she knew her mother’s grief ran so much deeper.
Grace had always been amazed and touched by the relationship between her parents and no matter how many friends she had made through high school and college, none of their parent’s relationships had ever come close to the one she had witnessed nearly everyday of her life. The love, the respect, the compassion, the patience. They were all things that Grace had kept in mind with every man she had ever dated.
“I can’t believe I’m never going to hear him call you ‘Angel’ again.”
Old eyes drifted back out over the ocean. She knew she would see Andrew again and that when that time came, they would have the rest of eternity together. Monica only wished she knew how to bide her time between now and then, “I’ve been with him so long, Gracie, that I have no idea how to be without him,” She whispered, closing her eyes briefly, trying to imagine her husband standing beside her, where he had been so many times in the past, wishing with all her might that when she opened them, he would indeed be there.
“The funeral was beautiful, mom. You did a lovely job. All daddy’s favorite songs and scripture. Uncle Paul talking about the times they spent as partners with the FBI…” She knew she was making small talk. Though she longed to comfort her mother, Grace knew that there were really no words that could ease the ache in her heart.
Monica could only nod her head, feeling the tightness in her throat returning. Had her husband already returned to his role as an angel of death? Was he watching over her from Home? Home. For so many years she had thought of home as here in New England, now all she longed for was to be in God’s presence and in Andrew’s arms.
She blinked back the tears and turned to her daughter, managing a tender smile, “How are you doing, Grace?”
The gentle words caused tears to well up in the young woman’s eyes and she shrugged her shoulders, “I miss him,” She whispered simply.
Monica wrapped her arms around her daughter as she began to cry, “Yes, sweetheart. I do too.”
*****
Three days later, the house was finally quiet and the little angel stood at her bedroom window, gazing up at the sky. The humid days of August had taken hold with a vengeance but she still shivered slightly. Funny thing was that Andrew had passed from this life exactly fifty years from the day they had married in the field back at the Gatlin’s farm. Fifty years. Had it really been that long? How could it have been when it felt like only yesterday that she had been giving herself to him on their honeymoon.
Monica closed her eyes, remembering all the details of that day and the night that had followed. She recalled his love and his tenderness, the way he had always treated her like something truly precious and for a moment, her heart ached pleasantly instead of with grief. With her eyes closed, she could almost feel his presence in the room with her, could almost smell the scent of his cologne and she breathed in deeply as the tears fell unashamedly from beneath her dark lashes.
“I miss you so much.” The words were scarcely a breath but the instant she spoke them, Monica felt strong hands on her shoulders and her breath caught in her throat. Unafraid, she turned around and gave a small cry.
Andrew had returned to his angelic form. He looked young again and his salt and pepper hair was once more blonde, but what had not changed were his eyes that were looking at her with such intense love. She was in his arms a heartbeat later, her tears unrestrained.
“My beautiful, sweet, angel,” He whispered, holding her as tightly as he dared, “I’ve miss you too.