I used to love the movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life,” never, ever thinking that some day I would resent George Bailey for being saved from a suicidal death. The movie is loudly playing in the other room and I hear the bell ringing and the singing and I wish the angel had saved my own son that night. Where was my son’s guardian angel?
My son’s “suicide note” was not a note but a drawing of the death angel presenting her hand to a young man on a hospital bed whose soul has already left his body, sitting up, arm extended. She is a she because of her beauty but she is dressed in a black cape and has no wings. There is a bright light cast down upon the bed as if from Heaven, and the bed is afloat on clouds with shadowy figures in the distance…not scary but not distinct. There is a small caption at the bottom that reads in my son’s hand, “it’s too late.” Why was his angel late to rescue him? He/she had enough time to know, as did George’s angel, about what was going to happen.
I know no one has the answer to my questions. I just muddle through trying to make sense of what is left me. I wish that my life was a gray Frank Capra movie with the warm, homespun Rockwell setting and the tidy ending. That the angel had arrived in time…the one in white who earned his/her wings….not the death angel in black who escorted my beloved sweet son to Heaven.