I believe in angels.

I’ve seen them. I have felt them. And I know that they are there. With us. Always.

There are times when I can feel them immensely.

And the times when I can’t feel them as strong… I long for them.

I have three key angels that are my guardians. My aunt Stacy. My grandpa Guarino. And Mary Magdalene. They are always with me.

I first saw my aunt Stacy in angel form when we lived in Germany. She had passed away in a car accident. I remember being in my moms room and looking into the bathroom and seeing this great light form and I knew it was her. I was so little. 4 or 5 years old. She still visits me often. The last time I felt her and my grandpa immensely was when I gave birth to my son. They visited us in the hospital.

My Grandpa Guarino is a little bit more subtle… but I feel him. When he passed away, he waited for me to get to the hospital before he left his human form. I was by myself. He had been in and out of the hospital and I was the only one that lived nearby. My parents were in Boston and siblings scattered between Florida, West Georgia, and Massachusetts. When he went back into the hospital my mom called and asked me to visit him that day. When I showed up he was non-responsive but his vitals were fine. I said… hey Grandpa I’m here. And within 10 minutes his vitals started to plummet unexpectedly. I had on my student echo scrubs and the male nurse came whipping around the corner to check on him. I don’t know why I didn’t realize what was happening when his telemetry was buzzing off. At first the male nurse thought I was a student and made the comment “don’t you die on me.” And as he was responding to my grandpa deteriorating he realized I was his granddaughter and his demeanor changed. Then a flood of people came running in trying to work on saving my grandpas life. They were giving his chest compressions and I was standing there crying watching it all. Then the doctor came in while they were working on him saying “this wasn’t supposed to happen like this” to me and got some nurses to whisk me across the hall into another room and I could still see them and hear them working on him until he left us. When they called his death they brought me back into the room where his cold body lay. They handed my tissues and placed my hand in his cold, lifeless hand. And all I could do was cry. He waited for me to get there before he left his body. And to this day, I keep his rosaries hanging all over my house and next to my bedside. And I feel him all the time. It’s subtle… because he was always so subtle and quiet. And you know… he wasn’t my “biological” grandpa… or even my Dads “biological” dad…. but he took in my Dad and raised him as his own… and Just like my Dad and Grandpa, they both took me as their own and raised me as theirs. My protectors. And just as I type this… a picture on my wall that is taped up falls down. He’s here. I know.

My life is so at peace these days. And a little facial just makes it even lovelier. And Mary… well Mary knows best.