Angels appear to us in times of sorrow and grief helping us to mend our broken hearts. This story I am about to share with you is about my parents, Webster and Edna Sage, a loving couple who shared fifty years of marriage and a wonderful life. We had the typical fifties middle class upbringing; Dad was a consulting engineer, Mom was the homemaker. I have many fond childhood memories and consider myself very lucky to have been raised by these two special people. Mom and Dad were totally devoted to one another, she was The Love Of His Live. She confided to me once, "the secret to a happy marriage is to treat your husband like a King and he'll treat you like a Queen." They raised their three daughters with warmth, humor and provided us with a home filled with love and security. The last two years of my Mother's life she was somewhat confined with a respirator as she battled emphysema. Dad was always there for her as their roles reversed. He did the shopping, cooking, cleaning, caring for her as she had for him all those years. He never complained as their days revolved around Mother and her needs. He found he had a knack for cooking and it became his second hobby as he enjoyed creating dishes and buying some 'new-fangled' appliance as he called them. He bought a bread machine, pasta maker, a wok and delved into his cooking with quite a flair. He had a natural talent for culinary art and surprised us all with his creations. He became the self-proclaimed "Wok Master" preparing tasty new recipes for us to try out. He went though the bread-making and pasta machine periods too. I'd drop by for a visit and see numerous wooden racks sitting on the dinning room table with pasta hanging over them and flour all over the floor. Mother would roll her eyes with good humor as he spread more flour on the floor then in the intended recipes. I'd grin at Mother, drag out the vacuum cleaner and tidy up a bit. However his warm homemade whole wheat bread was scrumptious and the pasta delicious. Cooking was just a hobby, his passion, outside of The Love Of His Life, was playing golf. He booked early morning rounds several times a week with his golfing cronies always followed by a nap, his usual ritual. Mother died in her sleep. She was here one day and gone the next. My sisters and I tried to comfort Dad, we were all in our own state of shock. A few days after she died, Dad said to us, "You know, I've never been alone. I went from home, to College, into the Navy, married your Mother and this is the first time I've been on my own". He was 73 years old. He missed her terribly, The Love Of His Life. Dad developed heart problems which necessitated surgery a few months after we lost Mother. He stayed with me for his post-op care until he fully recouperated and could return home to their condo on a golf course. This was their dream retirement home. He'd look at the fairway and we all knew he missed playing golf which had been a passion of his for as long as we could remember. As a kid growing up, every Spring we would invariably hear his corny proclamation:
Angels appear to us in times of sorrow and grief helping us to mend our broken hearts. This story I am about to share with you is about my parents, Webster and Edna Sage, a loving couple who shared fifty years of marriage and a wonderful life.
We had the typical fifties middle class upbringing; Dad was a consulting engineer, Mom was the homemaker. I have many fond childhood memories and consider myself very lucky to have been raised by these two special people. Mom and Dad were totally devoted to one another, she was The Love Of His Live. She confided to me once, "the secret to a happy marriage is to treat your husband like a King and he'll treat you like a Queen." They raised their three daughters with warmth, humor and provided us with a home filled with love and security.
The last two years of my Mother's life she was somewhat confined with a respirator as she battled emphysema. Dad was always there for her as their roles reversed. He did the shopping, cooking, cleaning, caring for her as she had for him all those years. He never complained as their days revolved around Mother and her needs.
He found he had a knack for cooking and it became his second hobby as he enjoyed creating dishes and buying some 'new-fangled' appliance as he called them. He bought a bread machine, pasta maker, a wok and delved into his cooking with quite a flair. He had a natural talent for culinary art and surprised us all with his creations.
He became the self-proclaimed "Wok Master" preparing tasty new recipes for us to try out. He went though the bread-making and pasta machine periods too. I'd drop by for a visit and see numerous wooden racks sitting on the dinning room table with pasta hanging over them and flour all over the floor.
Mother would roll her eyes with good humor as he spread more flour on the floor then in the intended recipes. I'd grin at Mother, drag out the vacuum cleaner and tidy up a bit. However his warm homemade whole wheat bread was scrumptious and the pasta delicious.
Cooking was just a hobby, his passion, outside of The Love Of His Life, was playing golf. He booked early morning rounds several times a week with his golfing cronies always followed by a nap, his usual ritual.
Mother died in her sleep. She was here one day and gone the next. My sisters and I tried to comfort Dad, we were all in our own state of shock. A few days after she died, Dad said to us, "You know, I've never been alone. I went from home, to College, into the Navy, married your Mother and this is the first time I've been on my own". He was 73 years old. He missed her terribly, The Love Of His Life.
Dad developed heart problems which necessitated surgery a few months after we lost Mother. He stayed with me for his post-op care until he fully recouperated and could return home to their condo on a golf course. This was their dream retirement home. He'd look at the fairway and we all knew he missed playing golf which had been a passion of his for as long as we could remember. As a kid growing up, every Spring we would invariably hear his corny proclamation:
His Doctor eventually gave him the green light to return to golf after a period of time and he attempted to normalize his life and deal with his grief over the loss of my Mother.
The city my folks lived in had an annual Music and Crafts Festival along the main street every year. They always enjoyed this affair, strolling the streets, enjoying the music, viewing the art displays and taking delight in the general air of friendliness and fun. Once again, the affair was scheduled and Dad wondered if he'd enjoy it alone. He decided he needed to get out and mingle with people to combat his grief and take his mind away from the solitary life and isolation he was now xperiencing.
My Dad met an angel at the festival. I'm certain of it and so was he. Dad had been stolling the street and as the heat intensified he found himself getting a little weary and began looking for a sidewalk cafe where he could rest, sip a lemonade and catch his breath.
Suddenly he heard a voice call out to him, "Excuse me Sir, would you like to sit down?" He turned around to find a pretty young woman smiling and motioning to an empty chair next to hers.
He graciously accepted her offer and they began chatting about the Fair, the great weather and general small talk.
My folks were always at ease in any situation and would comfortably strike up conversations at the drop of a hat with total strangers. I laugh when I recall them taking us to the Circus when I was a kid. Dad said, "Hey, let's see what's behind the Big Top," as he meandered behind the scenes we trailed along totally mortified by his behavior saying, "DAD! We're not allowed back here!" But he began chatting amiably with a friendly clown who gave us a little tour. That clown must have admired Dad's spunk and curiosity.
As Dad and the young lady chatted she asked if he was married. He smiled a bit sadly and began reminiscing about Mother with a mixture of emotions. His sorrow and loss was clearly apparent. The young lady listened attentively as they sipped lemonade on that hot afternoon. As Dad relayed the story to me later on he remarked how surprised he was that a 'pretty young thing would let an old codger bend her ear'. Surely she would enjoy her afternoon doing something a bit more fun? But, the purpose of their encounter will come to light as you read on.
After chatting awhile, the young lady smiled and reached into a shopping bag which was laying by her feet. She presented my Dad with a gift, saying, "I bought this for myself because I love angels, but I'd be delighted if you would accept this gift. I believe it was intended for you, Mr. Sage."
In her hands was a small porcelin angel, sitting and mending a broken heart. As my Dad narrated this story to me a few days later he paused and said, "You know I don't remember telling her my name was Mr. Sage, I only introduced myself as 'Web'. We both looked at one another and realized theirs was not a chance meeting but I truly believe, as Dad did, an Angel entered his world with a gift to heal his broken heart.
Dad passed on not long after their encounter. He had played a round of golf, his 'second love' and as usual topped it off with an afternoon nap. He passed away in his sleep and his heart was finally mended as he joined my Mother, The Love Of His Life. As for the angel with the broken heart...it's my most valued possession.