I believe in Angels. Unequivocably. This is a picture of my angel. Actually, he is my mothers brother Billy. He died four years before I was born in a car accident while he was home on leave from the Navy. But he is very real to me. Not just because of the stories told by my grandmother and my mother but because of an encounter that I had with him.
A memory. All of my life I have had a memory of him sitting in a basement. Leaning against a wall, and the sun is coming in through either a coal bin opening or a window. I have looked and looked through old photographs trying to find this picture, but to no avail. I am convinced then it is a memory.
My mother would always tell a story, of how as a baby I was crawling around on the floor. For some reason, my father had taken the grate off a heat vent, which in those days was just a hole in the floor between the basement (where the furnace was) and the upper floor. I crawled over to the hole and fell through. All the way to the basement in the coal bin. When she got down there, I was sitting on top of the coal, completely unharmed.
How could a baby fall that distance and not be harmed? I think it was Uncle Billy. I think he came to me as an angel and kept me from harm, and thats why I have that memory of him sitting in a basement leaning back against a wall. I have always had tender feelings for him, and wish I could have known him. But I will one day…