I elder-cared my parents for 9 ½ years. Knowing nothing about what this journey would hold, I signed up immediately to be their care-giver when my parents started to show signs of not being able to take care of themselves. It would be my gift back to them for being the amazing, supportive, and loving parents I’d known all my life. They were married for more than 65 years; a testament to how they loved and lived for each other like there was no tomorrow. I wanted to be able to keep them together for their respective last chapters and those tomorrows that were then waning. My task was to courageously, if I could, hold their hands as we three walked this holy path at dusk; Could I calm their disquiet as they lost their footing, couldn’t keep their focus, or scrambled their thoughts while losing their physical abilities as well? To call this journey sacred would be true. And, from my perspective, it would also be like stepping unto a roller coaster I had no idea I would be riding. All my good intentions, with wanting to honor my parents by protecting, assisting, and living with them, certainly did not make up for the lack of sleep, the stress, and frustration I would feel in the process of mainly caring for them all by myself, while working outside the home as well. To watch my parents age and lose their faculties, or for my Dad to go deaf was difficult enough, but when either of them began to question my intentions, my judgement, or my love for them in any given situation – those moments were emotionally heart-wrenching. I still felt emotionally drained even knowing full well that those moments were a bi-product of them losing their ability to think critically. My work was in not taking things personally, and staying open to the present; because that’s when grace would arrive. Sure enough, one of those moments of grace or divine intervention occurred, in the later years of my elder-caring. I had a camera/monitor set up so that I could make sure if my parents got up at night I would be alerted and get up and assist them. One evening, I heard/saw that my Dad was getting up and as I walked from my room to my parent’s bedroom, I saw a beautiful, white, glowing, silhouette of an Angel greeting me at the foot of their bed. I wasn’t afraid or daunted by this heavenly body at all. I did blink, but the beautiful Angel stayed until my attention turned to my parents again. It was a stunning, moving image, one that I didn’t question as being real. Overall, I felt protection and a feeling of affirmation that all was in divine order. “Of course,” my inner voice was saying, there were angels around overseeing this chapter in our lives. My parents, “my angels” were being protected. Along with that protection, I’m convinced that this divine being that entered our space transmitted some energy to me as well, to let me know that I was being watched over too, so I could feel support and continue my care-taking assignment with renewed energy and love. The song that came into play, after that angel sighting occurred, was within a year of my Dad passing. It came on the radio as I was driving to work – it was “Goodnight My Angel,” by Billy Joel. I hadn’t heard that song before then and Billy had debuted this song in 1993, which was 24 years earlier. Obviously, this was my time to hear it, to be soothed and comforted by it.