Fifteen hundred jigsaw pieces would eventually make up a collage of vintage Coca-Cola bottles. Losing myself in the challenge had allowed me some of the few moments of peace I’d had since my wife’s passing.
It was too bad I couldn’t put my life back together in the same way, not with the most important piece of it gone forever.
I spent much of one Friday at the kitchen table, where the puzzle sat. Almost done. After breaking for the evening news, I carefully placed the last few pieces. Finally I’d come to the very last one–and I couldn’t find it!
I crawled on the floor, under the table and all around it. I inspected each chair. I ran my hand along the surface of the puzzle to make sure the piece wasn’t sitting on top, blending into the intricate design. I even gingerly lifted the puzzle up off the table with a spatula to look for the missing piece underneath.
At last I looked up at the clock. I had to get ready to meet my nephew for dinner. The missing piece would have to wait until I got back.
On my way out I walked by the kitchen table. There, atop the puzzle–so big and prominent it was impossible to miss–was the last piece! Clearly there was only one explanation for my discovery: An angel wanted me to know that my late wife was still with me. The most important piece of my life could never be lost.
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