We all struggled when my husband died, but my youngest daughter, Jill, simply couldn’t bring herself to talk about it. My prayers were for God to bring her comfort.
One evening after visiting with her children, she got in the car to leave and began crying.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” five-year-old Harrison asked.
“I miss Paw-Paw,” Jill explained.
“Don’t cry,” Harrison said. “Paw-Paw is sitting right beside you.”
Jill glanced at the empty passenger seat. Reagan, age seven, smiled big. “Look! He’s right there,” Harrison pointed.
I think an angel sat beside Jill. A comforting angel who would be there to listen when she was ready.
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