Rita:
There are a few people I have met that I can call angels. Of course, I have heard from people like Mother Teresa of Calcutta and popes in the Vatican, But I have yet to meet them personally. Although I have known this woman for an abbreviated time, I can call her an earthly angel.
Sunday came, and we went to church. Everything seemed normal, just because of one thing: we didn’t see Rita in church. My wife told me about it after Mass, and I responded.
Me: Don’t worry about that; she went to Saturday Mass.
Wife: Yes, but she comes to all the Masses.
I had nothing to say to that assertion, so I did what I always do on such occasions: keep quiet. After a few weeks, we learned Rita was sick.
Rita was the person who welcomed the new members of the congregation. We were always members of this parish, but there was a time when the church was under renovation, and we started attending another parish a little farther away. The church was finished, but we continued participating in the other parish for a while. When we returned, we saw that the church’s renovation was perfect, and the atmosphere was more bearable. In this part of the church’s history, we met Rita.
We started going to Mass on Saturdays, and one day, we met her. If I ever felt like I was in the presence of someone out of this world, it was when I met Rita. One Saturday, we walked into the church, and she came up to welcome us. We talked for a few seconds, and from that day on, we were friends. Every time we met her at church, she stopped to chat with us for a few minutes. On one occasion, she stopped to talk to my wife and hugged her. What surprised me was that she approached me and asked, “Can you hug me? I didn’t answer because I was surprised by his request. She repeated the question, and I answered in the affirmative. Then she hugged me. Honestly, I considered her to be the angel of the church.
Weeks passed, and we noticed Rita was not attending Mass. I told my wife she was attending another Mass, and she replied she attended all the Masses. Then we found out she was sick. With his illness came a change of priest. Because Rita was so well known in the parish, the priest visited her on her sickbed. Few people visited her at home because she didn’t want anyone to see her in a state of illness; she had terminal cancer.
On one of the Sundays we went to Mass, my wife stopped to ask the priest about her, and he answered her.
Wife: Father, could you tell me how you found Rita when you visited her?
Priest: I will tell you she is not in excellent health, but I can assure you of one thing. She’s an angel.
That’s what I thought of her. Few people were in that state of spirituality. Soon after, Rita died quietly and diverted attention to other things that seemed more important.
The following Sunday, after her death, I sat in one of the front pews of the church, waiting for Mass to begin. My gaze was lost through some mosaics behind the pulpit of the church. Suddenly, I noticed a little bird among the trees outside the church. I kept looking at the bird to see what it was doing. It followed through the trees and stopped before one of the transparent mosaics. The Mass began, but the little bird continued to look through the glass for most of the Mass. The only thing that came to my mind was that this little bird was Rita, who came to say goodbye to the parishioners. As I left Mass, I told my wife about it, and she told me she thought the same thing I thought. The little bird continued to visit for two Sundays and then did not return. The gates of heaven opened to receive the angel named Rita. Meeting Rita was an honor for me.
My wife
I don’t want to miss this opportunity to pay tribute to the person who has shared more than half my life with me, my wife. Our spouse is the person who spends many hours and many years with us. A spouse is a person who gets to know us better than anyone else. My wife knows my secrets, which are often her secrets, too. We sometimes offend this person unintentionally.
That person is so unique that we promise to be with them until death. The person who sees us grows old next to them. The person we miss when they leave this world and their image lives in our memories forever, until our last breath.
In short, the person listens to our complaints when the sun goes down, and darkness comes when the room door closes until the next day when the sun’s glare tells us that the new day has arrived.
When discussing Valentine’s Day, we think only of that person, although we love all the others.
A fresh beginning is possible when we leave our old lives behind and begin a life with our soulmate. My wife is the one whom I honor on this day of friendship and affection. I hope you have an excellent Valentine’s Day next to your soulmate.
