I am not sure if I really believe in Angels, but I think I do.
On Christmas Night, Gom was at death's door.
As I sat vigil, so fearful he would die, I looked out the window of his hospital room and say a golden curled feather, floating on the breeze? the updraft? the pull of the building?
I have no idea what kept the golden feather aloft, as it bobbed and floated before the window.
Up it came, and danced and floated, and slowly disappeared and reappeared.
It vanished for moments, and I thought of an Angel;s wing.
It was a feather from somewhere, that looked like no feather I had ever seen on any bird.
Suddenly, when I thought it had vanished, it reappeared, to dance it's little ritual dance all over again.
I felt curiously comforted.
I finally decided to leave the Hospital, and trust in the Staff, and, perhaps, a Golden Winged Angel, to save Gom's life.
He was being tended by an Angel of a Nurse, who was the most gentle and caring person I have ever met. I hope I see her again.
He was saved, by whatever miracle, and forces, and the hard work, of wonderful Staff for the whole of that hideous night, as he hovered so close to death.
He made it through that awful night. He is still here, and I keep thinking of that Golden Feather.
We hope he will be home soon after New Year.
He is improving now, after another proceedure today, which seemed to go very well.
As you may guess, our Christmas is one we never wish to repeat.
Cat Stevens Tuesday's Dead.