As an Angel, I must work diligently to allow the dying to die by lifting the pain that binds them to their body. Under no circumstances may we allow the species we are helping to suffer any pain by waiting for some other miracle to happen. We are the miracle.
But while drifting around I-89 State highway, I witnessed az drunk driver barrel inti the passenger side of a van. Chunks of metal flew to the other lane, slowing traffic to a painful crawl. Sensing that someone was wounded, I flew down to find the drunken driver unharmed, but behind the upturned van, an old man was leaning over the limp body of his wife, cussing and crying. My heart sank. Many years ago, before my young life was unexpectedly ripped from its seams...

My thoughts were interrupted by tne sobs of the man. I knew what my job was, yet I couldn't do it. I watched, broken-hearted, as he stroked her cheek and kissed her forehead. He looked likea child, cradling a well worn doll.

...I was hit by a drunken driver. My Mother visited me every day, wishing it was her he had hit.

Sirens wailed in the distance. I knew she was going to be saved. Looking down at her, with tears trickling down my cheeks, I managed to smile. It has benn thirty years since my death, and I missed her dearly, but it wasn't my Mother's time yet.