David’s Angel

                                                             By

                                                 Lorraine Smith

 

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday, and it was fast approaching, but for the first time in my life, I dreaded it.  My husband, Roy, had passed away in October after a long and difficult battle with cancer, and our kids and I were having a difficult time adjusting to life without him.  Even though he’d been suffering for months and his death had been imminent,  it was still hard to realize that he was no longer with us.  I tried to be upbeat for the sake of the kids, but every time I heard a Christmas carol or saw Christmas decorations, it was difficult not to break down.

“You’ll have to be the man of the family now, son,” was the last thing Roy said to our 17-year-old son, David, on the night before he passed.  David had taken the role to heart and bossed our daughters, Macy, 13, and Sherry, 8, way beyond the need for him to do so.  That led to their constant squabbling, and sometimes I got so tired of listening to them bicker, I wished I had been the one to die. I prayed that God would help them to get along better, but He didn't seem to be listening, and the arguing continued.

We got through Thanksgiving by avoiding our usual customs and eating our turkey dinners in a restaurant, and when it was over I think we all breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, I had a good job which I enjoyed, and that got me through the days without dwelling on my situation too much, but evenings and weekends were endless.  The children had school and sports to keep them busy, and although they missed their dad a great deal, their lives went back to semi-normal much more quickly than mine.

One night in early December after I got home from work, I decided to separate the kids to avoid having to listen to their fighting.

“Macy, I need to do some shopping,” I said, leaning over to where she was doing her homework at the table and brushing her hair out of her eyes.  “Will you stay with Sherry for a little while?  I'll take David with me to help carry stuff.”

 “Sure, Mom,” she agreed, eager to earn the money she knew I'd pay her for taking care of her sister, and anxious to get out from under David's harassment for a while.  I felt Macy was responsible enough to stay with Sherry for a few hours.  I knew David would be willing to go so he could use his learner’s permit to drive to the mall which was only a few miles from home. 

“You may drive if you'll go with me,” I said, handing the keys to him.  He grabbed them eagerly, and we left shortly after supper, leaving the dishes piled in the sink which I hoped the girls would do while we were gone.  Luckily, we found a parking place within a short distance of the stores where I wanted to shop. 

“I don't want to be gone too long.  Meet me right here by the doors at 8:30,” I said, handing him a few dollars.  He headed for the game area where I assumed he would spend his evening.

I shopped half-heartedly for a couple of hours and then it was time to meet David.  As I approached the location where we were to meet, I heard someone singing Christmas carols.  I found David among a group of people who were clustered around a pretty teenage girl seated in a wheelchair, just inside the entrance to the mall. She was singing her heart out in a high sweet voice.  He seemed mesmerized, and when I suggested that we leave, he begged me to stay for a couple more songs.  We did, even though the familiar old carols brought tears to my eyes, and then an older man (we later found out he was her dad) came and pushed her wheelchair out of the store. 

“How did you happen to find her?”  I asked David as we loaded my packages into the trunk. and got back into the car for the ride home. 

“My heart found her,” he said.  That was so unlike David I couldn't believe he said it.

 The next evening David came to me while I was finishing the supper dishes, grabbed a dish towel and started wiping them (which he never does!) and asked, “Can we go back to the mall tonight, Mom?”

I knew why he wanted to go, so we all bundled up and drove to the mall again.  He made a beeline for the area where he’d found the young lady the night before, and the girls and I did a little shopping.  They needed school gifts and something for their teachers, and they took a long time selecting what they wanted to buy.  Finally, the gifts were chosen and paid for, and we headed back to meet David.  This time he was standing next to the wheelchair and looked even more awestruck than he had the night before.  Her beautiful voice rang out and tears filled my eyes once again as I listened. 

“Her name is Diane, Mom,” he said on the way home.   “I really like her.” 

It soon became a ritual.  David would drive to the mall, I'd drop him off, and go back to pick him up in a couple hours.  It was sort of a nuisance, but it was a small price to pay for the peace the girls and I enjoyed with him gone.  He passed his driver’s test and soon was able to drive on his own, which helped.  He and Diane became good friends, spending a lot of time together and even eating meals at each other’s homes.  They made a handsome couple; he, tall with dark hair, brown eyes and rugged good looks, and she was tiny with beautiful blonde curls and bright blue eyes.   It was fun watching them begin to fall in love. 

“Thank you, God, for answering my prayer in such a lovely way,” I told Him.

We all enjoyed Diane’s visits.  She was as sweet as she was talented, and she was either at our house after school and on weekends, or David was at hers.  We rented a wheelchair for her to use at our house so hers didn't have to be put in the car every time.  She was so lightweight that David could easily carry her back and forth from the car to the house. The girls decorated her chair with tinsel and ornaments left over from trimming our tree.   Macy and Sherry were crazy about her, and she often played games with them which they loved.  Her mom and dad were lovely people and Diane was their only child, born to them a little later in life.  We found out that her wheelchair status was caused by a type of leukemia, which was currently in remission.

“You might try not to get too attached to Diane,” her parents warned us, soon after we had met them.  “Her life span is growing shorter all the time, and it will be hard on us all when she has to leave us.”

The warning came way too late.  We had all fallen in love with this beautiful child and were determined to help make whatever time she had left as happy as we could.  We all prayed for God to heal her, but He seemed to want her with Him.

“How about spending Christmas with us?” I asked Diane a couple of days before the holiday.  “Your parents are welcome too, and we'd love to have all of you.” 

Christmas came and went, much better than I had anticipated.  David’s happiness and Diane and her family’s presence eased my aching heart somewhat from missing my husband so much.    

David quit picking on the girls so much and our home became a happier place. The seasons passed quickly.  David graduated from high school in June, and there was no one that clapped harder at his ceremony than Diane.  He decided to put off college for a year so he could spend what remaining time Diane had left with her.  They argued about that; she, urging him not to put off his schooling because of her, and he, not wanting to admit to her why he was doing it.  But we all knew, and it was okay.   I think they had their first argument over that, as he came home and slammed things around for a little while.  It didn’t last long, though, and he drove back over to her house as soon as he cooled off a bit.  As far as I knew, it just wasn’t mentioned again.

Not long after school started, Diane had a scary relapse in her condition, and we all held our breath until she came out of it.  The few days she had to be in the ICU in our small-town hospital, David stayed as close to her room as they would let him. Since Diane was well known to the staff from the multiple times she had been admitted, and they all knew the situation, they allowed him some special privileges not normally allowed in ICU.  When she was finally discharged and he was able to bring her home,  it was a tossup as to who was happiest: him, the staff at the hospital, or her parents.  She had to give up attending school then, as she grew weaker, and Christmas was approaching again when she began to lose her spark.  As her disease overtook her remission, her pain grew worse, and she had to spend most of her time in bed.  Of course, her trips to the mall were no longer possible, although she was still able to sing for her family or for us on the rare occasions now that she felt strong enough to come to our home.

She rarely complained, but once I heard her say to David, “I wish I could go back to the mall one more time and sing for the people.  I really miss that.”

“Maybe you can go next year,” he replied, although they both knew that was an impossible dream. 

Her time on earth was growing short, and our hearts ached with the knowledge that we were soon going to have to say goodbye.  The only consolation was that we knew she’d be in Heaven with Jesus, and out of pain and able to walk again.  We visualized her leading the heavenly angel choir with her beautiful voice, standing alone in front of them all. 

Our families had grown very close over the last year, and I loved Diane like a daughter.  David was close to tears much of the time, and we knew he was not likely to get over losing his first love any time soon.  He spent most of his time with her after he got home from his part-time job and on weekends, and her parents, who had grown as fond of him as we had of Diane, even allowed him to sleep on a couch in a corner of her room.

We spent Christmas Eve at their home and ate supper with them.  Diane ate very little, but she had an unusually good evening and was even able to sing a few carols.  Her voice remained sweet and true to the end.  I think she knew she was leaving us that night when she hugged us all and wished us Merry Christmas.  We left early as we could see she was tiring, and David called me, sobbing, about midnight “She’s gone, Mom.  She just slipped away in her sleep.” 

So that Christmas was even worse than the one right after my husband had passed.  It is a terrible feeling to watch your child grieve and not be able to help.  I knew in time David would recover, as I had, but Christmas is always going to hold bittersweet memories for us all.

     God has seen us through it all, helping us endure the grieving process, healing our hearts and assuring us that we will see Diane (and my husband Roy) again.  David eventually met and married another lovely girl whom we all grew to love, but it was obvious he had never forgotten his first love when they named their first child Diane.

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