While I can’t say that I subscribe to any specific religion at the moment, I do have a profound sense of “faith” – a sense that there exists in our lives something beyond what our five senses can experience... something “bigger”. And I believe in angels. This is why...
My grandfather, dearer to me than I could ever even begin to explain, passed away on the day after Thanksgiving last year after a long battle with lung cancer. It’s a truly evil disease, for it robs its victims of the most basic human dignities, and can even deny them simple comforts such as the memories of a life well-lived. Such was the case with my grandfather. Clancy and I got to tell him of my first pregnancy, and he was able to experience the anticipation of his first great-grandchild for a few short, precious weeks – but by the time I miscarried, he no longer remembered that I had been pregnant. The disease had overwhelmed his mind. My family agreed to keep our grief to ourselves, for we knew he would be devastated if he ever realized that he had forgotten something so important. I did, however, make one request of my grandfather shortly before he passed a couple of months later – I asked him to always be my babies’ guardian angel and to help them find their way to me when it was time. There was absolute peace and love between us in those final moments, and I looked into his eyes as he flew away from us.
The week after my grandfather passed, little Yoda was conceived. He was a man who just got things done.
Oh, and my due date... two days before my grandfather’s birthday. I doubt anyone will be surprised if little Yoda chooses that day as a birthday too.