I was ten years old and was playing little league.
One particular summer night, we came home from
my ballgame and me and my little brother slept
soundly undisturbed together through the night.
We were both VERY LIGHT sleepers always.
Yet on this particular night, we never awoke to
all the very loud commotion around us.
I awoke to my mother's voice the next morning.
Instantly, I read in her face what she was about
to say. She informed us that my Grandfather had
died the night before. There had been a great
commotion when he suffered a heart-attack,
screamed out for help, the sound of the ambulance,
the noise of the paramedics. They had even backed
the stretcher into our room banging the walls and doors
to take my grandfather from his bed. He died that night
at the hospital and the wails of greaf from my family
filled our home....
yet through it all...my brother and I deeply slept.
When I was informed of what happened by
our mother the next morning...I was emotionally
traumatized. Yet I could faintly hear the sounds
of a harp and an overwhelming sensation
of comfort. I knew something was in my
presence.
God (or an angel) kept my brother and I
from that traumatic experience.
To this day, I wake to a simple dog barking in
the distance, or the rustling of leaves outside,
or the footsteps of one of my little ones. Yet on
that night we slept, despite it all.
The first time I experienced death,
I was comforted by a presence that
has visited me many times in my life.
I've always liked to think it was my
guardian angel.