Leah, a gentle-hearted girl with curious blue eyes, stands in the hush of the morning, feeling the weight of absence settle in the room. Her great grandparents' favorite chairs remain untouched, their knitted blankets folded neatly over the arms as if waiting for their return. Outside, birds sing gently, and a breeze stirs the curtains, carrying in the sounds of a world that continues to turn.
Leah sits with her mother, Becky —a woman whose eyes are rimmed red but gentle—sorting through old photo albums. Each page tells a story: birthdays, holidays, and laughter shared across generations. Leah points to a picture of her great grandparents dancing, their joy eternal in the captured moment.
Becky breathes a shaky sigh, her hands trembling as she sips her coffee from a mug. "Mom, do you think they're happy now?" Leah asks. "I think they are, Leah. I really do. It's just really hard knowing they aren't here with us anymore" Becky admits, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leah leans close to her mother, her voice steady and bright. "I think Heaven is real, Mom. I think it's beautiful—full of gardens and music and all the people we love waiting for us. I feel like there are angels here, too, watching us and keeping us safe," she says with conviction, her gaze unwavering.
"How can you be so brave, Emma?""Because I know they're not really gone. They're just somewhere we can't see, but I can still feel them sometimes. And I know we'll see them again," Leah murmurs, her words wrapping around her mother like a gentle embrace. Becky closes her eyes, letting the hope in her daughter's voice soothe the ache in her chest.
Leah dances through the living room, her laughter mingling with birdsong. Becky watches her, a soft smile returning to her face. Together, they carry the memory of those they love, certain that angels walk beside them, unseen but deeply felt, guiding them
