by Lorna Byrne
'I know, Michael,' I said, 'I won't.'
'Remember, Lorna,' Michael said. 'All your angels are with you, all the time, even when you cannot see or hear us. You keep us all employed.'
Michael raised his hands to my eyes, saying, 'Let me wipe away the tears. No more crying! Be happy now for your da.'
'Michael,' I said, 'I need to ask you a question before you go.'
'What is it, Lorna?'
'You know,' I started, 'the way I have been seeing Da's life from the moment of conception; the way I have been feeling his emotions and pain and seeing everything? Am I cleansing his soul? Is that what I'm doing?'
'Yes,'Michael replied. 'No more questions, Lorna, I must go.'
Michael disappeared and, at the same time, Ruth woke.
'Two weeks!' I said to myself, 'that's not long,' and took a deep breath.
The vision of my da's life never ceased for one second: it was never ending, continuous, heartbreaking, for me. Da called in every day. He would have a cup of tea and talk and I would listen and smile to myself. He talked mostly about the past, sometimes about what life was like when he was young, or about his parents, or about his best friend, Arthur Mason, who had died years before. Sometimes he talked about himself and Mum before they were married.
As the days went by I felt worse. It was horrific; knowing there were only a few days left until my da would be gone from this world. One afternoon, before going down to the school to collect the boys, I called on all the angels: I cried out to them from the depth of my despair. Angels Michael, Hosus, Elijah and Elisha appeared directly in front of me and, behind them, a host of other angels. I was enveloped in their love, which gave me the strength and courage to let go of my da's soul and not to hold on.
They spoke gentle words, 'You're not alone, Lorna. Go down to the school now and collect the children.' Joe was not at work that day; he was out in the garden. He came in at that moment and said, 'Lorna, you look very pale.' I told him I was okay, but Joe said he would go and collect the children so I could rest.
'No,' I said. 'I really am okay. Let's go down together.' I was tired and upset but I was remembering that the angels had told me to collect the children from school. Walking through the main street of Maynooth on the way back home, I had a big surprise: we met Da! This was the first time I had ever met Da in Maynooth, and I knew it was the angels' doing. Da was wearing his favourite Aran sweater that I had knitted for him and his hat with the fishing flies. He seemed a little disorientated, not quite sure where he was going. He looked a lot older than his fifty-six years. But he was delighted to meet us and I gave him a big hug.
Da suggested we went into the tearooms nearby. As I sat there looking at him I could see that the light around him was almost invisible: there was just a slight flicker, like a thread of light broken in a hundred places. I could see his guardian angel standing behind him, much taller than him, supporting him and holding onto his human body – holding his body and soul together.
Over tea Da mentioned to me that he didn't feel well, that breathing was difficult. This was the first indication he had given me of physical problems. Every second with my da was precious now. We walked him back to his car and I gave him a big hug. I thought it would be the last time I would see him alive.
The following day, I was washing vegetables at the kitchen sink when an angel whispered in my ear, 'Your Da is coming to see you for the last time.' I hadn't even had the chance to call my angels, when there was a honk of a car horn at the gate. Everything was in slow motion. I was surprised to see Da already out of the car, standing at the gate, looking as if he didn't want to open it, not wanting to come in.
My heart was beating fast. He called out to me to say he was very tired but had a strong need to bring this vacuum cleaner to me. I went to open the gate for him to come in, but Da said, 'No, Lorna, my lungs feel like turnips. I must go home.' He stood at the far side of the gate and I stood inside. I didn't open it. His guardian angel was carrying him in his arms and I could see only a tiny trace of light around him.
I know you could ask why didn't I open the gate, but I was respecting Da's wish not to do so. A connection had to be broken for our souls to separate, that is why Da would not let me open the gate – he knew we had to stay on opposite sides of it. Spiritually, Da knew the gate was not to be opened, but how much more he knew at that time, I don't know. I smiled at my Da and reached out and held his hand. We said our goodbyes and Da went home. I told Joe later that evening that Da was dying. He didn't say much, but just held me in his arms.
Two days later, our souls completely separated. It was the morning of Saint Patrick's Day: the 17th of March. Joe was not feeling well, so I told him not to bother about coming with the children and me to the St Patrick's Day parade and to stay in bed. We all had breakfast and I got the children ready to go to the parade in Maynooth. Down in the town the parade was in full swing. The children were given sweets and shook hands with the clowns and everyone was having a great time. I was trying to smile and be happy for the children so as not to spoil their fun, even though at times I thought the parade would never end.
I was relieved when, as I eventually walked home with the children, Angel Michael appeared beside me. I could feel his hand on my shoulder to comfort me. 'You're not alone, Lorna,' he whispered in my ear. I was trying not to cry, knowing that if the children saw me, they would be upset too.
'I feel so empty,' I whispered back to Michael, 'and my da is gone! I can feel no connection with him. He's gone.'
'Your da will come to you, spiritually, in the future,' Angel Michael whispered back, 'but not for a long time. Remember what you both share together – the connection, the partnership between your souls.'
'I know, Michael,' I said, 'but just now my human part is really hurting.'
Angel Michael strolled alongside me in silence, the two boys ran ahead of us and Ruth was in the buggy as her little legs were tired. A short distance from the gate of the cottage, Michael slipped his hand into mine, 'Lorna, you know the connection you have with God and your angels can never be broken.'
I stopped and looked at my angel. 'Michael, thank you. I needed to hear that.'
A car drove up the road and Michael disappeared. We were only home about a half an hour when my brother Cormac drove up. I looked out the window and Cormac was standing at the gate. I smiled, because he didn't open the gate either; he waited until I opened the gate for him. My brother was unaware of his playing a part in a spiritual blessing for our father; that he was taking the place of our Da at that moment as he walked through the gate. A beam of light appeared for a brief second, and I knew it was Da saying thank you.
'I know, Cormac,' I said, 'our Da is gone.'
Cormac said, 'I am trying to tell you that Da has died.'
'Come in and have some tea,' I said. An hour or so later, we all went down to see Mum.
Chapter Twenty-one
I need some miracles
Even when Joe was working, money did not seem to stretch very far. Many times the electricity was turned off because we had not paid the bill. Also, Christopher needed a gluten-free diet which meant I could not buy any cheaper brands of food, so I would frequently thank the angels for the garden, as growing our own vegetables helped a lot.
In the back of my mind I still had that vague feeling of being watched, and I sometimes thought fearfully of what Elijah had said to me about being tested by Satan the night of the picnic by the lake in Donadea. I'd try and put it out of my mind and hope it wouldn't happen, but deep down I knew it would.
Joe was eventually laid off by the carpet factory. They said they were letting others go, but I believe it was because of his health and his long absences. He got a temporary job back in CIE, the Irish transport company. Joe used to go down to the main road and thumb a lift to work: sometimes he was lucky but other times it took him hours to get to work, so he always had to leave early.
One morning he got a lift from a driver who crashed; the dr
iver was okay, but Joe had serious concussion. He was in hospital for a few days and while there he was diagnosed as diabetic. All that Elijah had shown me was starting to unfold. He never went back to work at the transport company.
It was the end of November, getting closer and closer to Christmas, and we had barely enough money to put food on the table and to keep the fire alight. One day I was out in the garden breaking brussels sprouts off stalks and putting them in a bag while it was lashing rain. I was soaked and felt completely miserable and I got really cross with the angels. 'We can't live on vegetables alone!' I shouted at them. I was in tears. Suddenly I saw a hand of light go into the bag. I looked up and there was Angel Hosus; he looked as wet as I did, which made me laugh and that made me feel a bit better.
'Hosus, do you not realise how bad things are?' I said, 'I have nothing for the children for Christmas. I need some miracles; there's no food other than vegetables and the electricity has been cut off again. I don't even have my engagement ring to go to the pawnbrokers. My ring is already pawned and I can't see Joe and me ever being able to get the money together to get the ring back.'
Angel Hosus reached out his hands and held my face. Looking up into his eyes was like looking into Heaven.
'Lorna, we are whispering in people's ears,' he said, 'but it's very hard sometimes to get them to listen.'
'Why can't people hear the angels like I do, Hosus?' I asked.
'Lorna,' Hosus replied, 'People hear the angels talking to them but they frequently think it's a silly thought and disregard what they are being asked to do. If a person shows any signs of listening to our whispers about helping someone else, even with the simplest of tasks, we will inspire confidence within them. People are always afraid they will make fools of themselves; but they never make a fool of themselves by helping someone.' 'Hosus,' I said, 'I am going to pray that people will listen to their angels.'
Hosus disappeared and I went back into the cottage. A few days later, with only two weeks to go to Christmas, I was walking down the hill to town to collect the boys from school when a car passed and stopped. There was a man and a woman in the car and the man wound down the window and said hello. At first I thought they were looking for directions, but when I looked into the car I could see their guardian angels faintly.
'We know you've two young boys,' the man said.
At that, his wife got out of the car, opened the boot and took out a large white bag saying, 'These are from Santa Claus. Our boys have grown out of them.'
I was dumbfounded. I couldn't believe it! Before I could say a word, she got back into the car and they started to drive away. I called after them, 'Thank you!'
The car lit up for a moment as I watched them going up the hill. I was laughing and jumping with joy, saying, 'Thank you, angels. Those people listened!' I was so happy. I opened the bag and looked in to see a variety of toys for young boys.
I hurried on my way so that I could give myself time to call into Jim the butcher's and leave the bag with him so that the boys wouldn't see it. Waiting for the boys in the schoolyard, I was so thrilled, so delighted; I couldn't wait to tell someone what had happened. I nearly burst waiting to tell Joe.
At the first chance I got when the children were out of earshot, I told Joe the whole story, describing every detail. He tried to work out who the man and woman were as he knew a lot of people in the area, whereas I knew hardly anyone. In fact, until recently I have never really been allowed to make close friends. For some reason the angels seemed to need me to be quite solitary. I did have my family, of course, but at times I would have loved to have friends.
Joe thought our good Samaritans might have been a couple he knew from Leixlip. If it was, though, he was never able to thank them because we were never sure.
'Don't you know it is the angels' doing?' I said.
He laughed and said, 'Thanks, angels.' I laughed too; I was so relieved.
However, Christmas dinner was another matter. There were two days to go to Christmas and Joe and I could still see no way of being able to buy a packet of biscuits, never mind a turkey. Yet the angels kept appearing, constantly telling me not to worry, that something was happening, that someone was listening.
Christmas Eve arrived and the children were so excited; they couldn't wait for Santa Claus. I've always loved Christmas myself; I think it is a wonderful time. Throughout the Christian world, the birthday of Jesus is the time to reach out to others, to share and build understanding, to break down boundaries, to bury our hatred and let our strong innate desire for love and peace rise up.
I went to bed that night thinking that there would be no Christmas dinner, but I thanked all my angels for everything that they had done already and told them I was looking forward to seeing the children's excitement when they saw their presents in the morning.
Next morning, Christmas day, the children woke at six. There were still some hot cinders in the fire and Joe went to the shed to get some sticks. He hadn't even opened the hall door when he called me and walked back into the front room holding an envelope in his hand. There was nothing written on it.
Joe tore open the envelope and at that moment angels filled the room and the light around them seemed to flicker. Joe drew out two £20 notes. I couldn't believe what I was seeing – I was exhilarated. I threw my arms around him. The children asked what was going on and Joe and I spoke as one. 'Santa Claus has given us a present, too!' We ended up with the children hugging our legs.
Imagine someone putting two £20 notes into the envelope, coming to the house on foot or in a car, opening the gate gently, tiptoeing up to the door and sliding the envelope under it! It must have been very late when it was delivered, because it had been after midnight when Joe and I went to bed. Whoever it was had given completely anonymously: there was no note, no card, and they expected nothing in return. It was a godsend. They made our Christmas. I thank whoever they are for listening to their guardian angels.
I have always told my children that the name Santa Claus comes from Saint Nicholas, and that Saint Nicholas works through people and inspires them to give presents to others. Saint Nicholas had clearly been at work here, as well as the angels.
Forty pounds was a huge amount of money at that time – about eight weeks' of grocery money.We felt like millionaires! Joe wrote a shopping list: lemonade, biscuits, a few sweets and other bits and pieces and, most importantly, a chicken, so the children could pretend it was a turkey. In the meantime, before we could shop, we had great fun playing with the children.
As we got ready for Mass and walked down to the church, I felt wonderful. As we all walked in through the church door I said to Joe, 'I hope the shopkeeper will have some cooked chickens.' Joe made me laugh by saying, 'What a thing to be thinking of going into Mass.' But during Mass I prayed for a cooked chicken! I thanked God and the angels for everything, and particularly for whoever had slipped the envelope under our door.
When Mass was over, we headed straight to the only shop in Maynooth that was open on Christmas morning – Barry's, on Main Street. As we were walking from the church we turned the corner into Main Street and I saw Angel Hosus standing in Barry's doorway, radiating love. Joe and the children walked ahead of me. I hesitated for a brief moment in the doorway of the shop. Hosus touched me on the shoulder and I said, 'Thank you for your radiant gift of love.'
'Can you smell the chickens cooking?' Hosus asked, and then disappeared.
The shop was crowded. People were buying bits and pieces and wishing everyone they met a 'Happy Christmas and a Prosperous New Year'. Joe was at the counter talking to the shopkeeper, Mrs Barry. She said she had a few orders for cooked chickens, for old people mainly, and that we were in luck as she had put on a few extra chickens to roast.
Mrs Barry had a big smile on her face, and I know she was happy that she had put the extra chickens on. For a brief instant her angel appeared behind her and I nodded and said a silent thank you to her angel and to Mrs Barry for listening to it.
'It won't be cooked for about another half an hour,' Mrs Barry said. Joe said that was okay and gave her the rest of the shopping list.
We walked around the town, looking in the shop windows and entertaining the boys, while Ruth fell asleep in the buggy. Then, when we walked back into the shop, the smell of the chickens was gorgeous. Mrs Barry said we had timed it well, as she had just taken the chickens out of the oven. She wrapped one up well and put it in a bag, while the rest of the shopping went into a box. Joe paid her and we thanked her and wished her a happy Christmas.
Joe took the box and I carried the warm bag back home to the cottage. In the kitchen, Joe put the box of groceries on the table and the children, all excited, helped to empty it of the sweets, biscuits and lemonade. It felt like a banquet.
I checked the chicken and turned to Joe, 'I can't believe it. It even has stuffing in it – it was very good of Mrs Barry to do that, not only cooking chickens on Christmas morning, but stuffing them as well.'
When the rest of dinner was ready, the candles were lit and the chicken was put in the centre of the table. The meal was gorgeous: that chicken tasted nicer than any turkey I have ever had before or since. We had a great Christmas.
The next few months were cold; we even had snow. We were all out in the garden throwing snowballs, the children had started to build a snowman and I was watching my younger son, Owen, rolling a snowball, when an angel whispered in my ear, but didn't appear.
'Is that you, Angel Hosus?' I asked.
'No, I am Owen's guardian angel.' The angel replied, still not showing himself. 'I want you to watch your son. I'm going to show you something.'
At that moment Owen called, 'Mummy, look at the snowball.' His big brother, Christopher, ran over to help and in no time at all they had rolled a snowball nearly as big as Owen. 'You have made that big enough for the body of the snowman,' I said, as I turned and walked towards the cottage. 'Now you just need to make another snowball as big as a football for the head then find stones for the eyes and mouth and a carrot for the nose.'
