Watching Over

My older brother, George, died of leukemia when he was 8 years old, just a few weeks after my 3rd birthday; my younger brother was 1 1/2 at the time. My mother has always told me how happy he was to have a baby sister and baby brother and how protective he was of us, even when he was weak and sick. All my life, I have thought of him in some way every day, and hoped that he would send me a sign. I have had a few dreams about him, and I can remember the day of his funeral, but not being able to remember him personally has always made me sad.

I am now 35 years old, married with two little girls of my own. Last summer, when my older daughter was 2, I was carrying her around our house, looking at all the family photos and asking her to name the people in them. On my bedroom dresser is a framed photo of George at about age 1, a typical black and white baby portrait of him sitting on a rug. When we got to that photo, I expected my daughter to just say "baby" - and my heart stopped when she pointed to it with a big smile and said, "Angel!" I was absolutely stunned...chills still run down my spine when I think about it.

Then last December, my younger daughter, who was 15 months old at the time, was watching "Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol" on DVD in the living room. When the Ghost of Christmas Past appeared on the screen (it's a cartoon guy with wings and a flame above his head), she got up, grabbed my hand, led me down the hall to my bedroom, pointed to George's photo, and said, "Angel". I fell to my knees just crying with happiness to think that maybe they can see him and he is watching over them.

It's great to read some of the very comforting and inspiring stories that people are sharing on this website.