Wishes and Angels

Diane tried to school her features into a semblance of calm as she felt the prickling at the back of her neck that signified that she was no longer alone in the room. It was May, her daughter, and she knew she’d been watching her as she wept silently into her kerchief. She hated when her little daughter caught her crying but there was nothing she could do. The girl was too perceptive.

It thrilled and pained her to see that May was already more like her than she could have ever imagined. Her bright, blue eyes stared at her as she announced to her a few months ago that her Dad would not be coming back home anymore. Those blue eyes bored into her and Diane was transported to another time, decades ago, when her Mum had come to relay the news of her father’s accident. She said things about long trips and heaven and all sorts of balderdash. But to six-year-old Diane, she knew to the depth of her being that she would never see her father again.

Now, decades later, her five-year-old daughter was giving her that same look. Even though she’d taken the time to dab her eyes and appear calm, her daughter gifted her with a cynical look too wise for her age that communicated silently to her that she didn’t believe for one second the story about long trips and journeys. She would never see her Dad again. But Diane had smiled wistfully and would not say more.

She didn’t pity herself as she did her daughter for she knew that Sean had been their daughter's best friend, entertainer, and teddy bear. Several times she’d walk in to see him cuddling her endearingly and when May would playfully complain that he was squeezing her half to death, he would say that it was because he was her teddy bear.

“But I have other teddy bears, Dada.” She’d say.

“I know.” He’d reply, tweaking the button on her pyjamas. “But I’m your favourite one.” And then they launch into their favourite pillow fight game.

They’d been like that. Inseparable. Which was why Diane was shocked when her daughter didn’t cry. Even now, months after Sean’s death, while she was still inconsolable, desolate about losing the love of her life, her daughter that had hung to her father like a monkey to a tree didn’t shed a single tear.

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Looking at her now as she gazed at her from the foot of the door, blue eyes shining like the bright skies of May, she beckoned on her to come. Sean had taken one look at her at the hospital and named her May, for she was “the big blue sky sent by God to me.”

Diane held May’s hands lovingly and sat her on her lap.

“How’re you doing sweetheart?” she said.

The beatific smile May gave in response crushed Diane’s heart for she realized in that moment what a terrible Mom she had been. Dwelling too deep in her grief to notice that her daughter also needed her. It was like May had been waiting on that single question forever.

Flashing her Mom a grin again that showcased several missing teeth, she said “I’m alright Mommy.”

And before Diane could continue, May spoke again.

“Why do you like crying, Mommy? What happened to you? Did you hurt yourself?”

“No baby, I didn’t hurt myself, why would you think that?”

“Well ever since Dada left, you’re always crying and I don’t know why. You don’t see my crying, do you?”

Diane laughed heartily at her daughter’s indignant tone and proceeded to ask. “No baby, I don’t see you cry. But why?”

“Why what?” she asked, fiddling with her buttons.

“Why don’t you cry?”

May smiled at her like it was the silliest question she’d ever heard.

“That’s because he’s not gone. He’s right here with us.”

Diane was suddenly alarmed. Was her daughter becoming delusional? Had these few months of neglect already messed with her baby’s head?

“No, May. Your Dada is gone.”

May frowned, wondering to herself why her Mommy would doubt her.

“But Mommy, he’s here. I spoke to the angel when Dada left. I made a wish that Dada won’t leave us. But the angel laughed at me and said that Dada will always be with us. I think the angel is his friend. He came when I was about to cry and he tweaked my button like Dada does and said I shouldn’t cry again. Or Dada wouldn’t be happy. So, that’s why I don’t cry, Mommy. Each time I want to cry, I tweak my button and I remember that Dada is here and I don’t cry again.”

Diane couldn’t draw a breath, afraid that if she as much as breathed, her daughter would stop talking. She quickly recovered herself and asked, “So, the angel…. Does he still come?”

May shook her head “I never saw him again after that night. Do you think he’s with Dada, Mommy?”

Diane smiled, feeling the months of dead weight suddenly lifted from her shoulders and her heart.

“Yes, I think so, my blue-eyed angel. He’s with your Dada.”

And as Diane, held her daughter that evening, tears streaming silently down her face, she threw her head heavenward and mouthed. “Thank you.”

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