"Angels Among Us"

by Wendy Slader

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I have had a number of experiences in my lifetime that I have attributed to "divine intervention." I believe there is (has been) angelic intervention in virtually everyone's life, but not everyone is "tuned in" to these experiences or the incident is simply chalked up to "coincidence."

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My father had five brothers and no sisters. I adored (and still do!) my uncles. As a kid I used to love it when they'd come to the house and visit. My father's oldest brother, Uncle Charlie, was my favorite. He was such a handsome man and a sharp dresser and very, very witty. He always teased us kids in a playful way and I thought the world of him.

As we grew up and after my father died, we rarely saw my uncles any more. Families tend to do that, unfortunately, when the "ties that bind" becomes broken. One day I ran into Uncle Charlie at the mall. He was sitting on a bench waiting for his wife and he was dozing off. I went over to him and gave him a nudge and said, "Hey! Wake up!" I was giving him the teasing sort of greeting that he would have given me. He looked up at me and there was confusion in his eyes even though he smiled a little grin. He said, "Do I know you?" I was taken aback. It had been a couple of years since I'd seen him last, but he certainly should have known me! I stammered and stuttered and told him who I was and then I could see the recognition come to him and I think he was as embarrassed as I was. We chatted for a bit, but when I walked away I walked away very, very hurt. I cried because my favorite uncle had to be told who I was.

Tearfully, I went home and told my mother my experience. She was angry and made several comments about how our uncles had just abandoned us since their brother died, etc. But the next time I saw my Uncle Charlie was another year or so later at a funeral. When I saw him, I knew why he hadn't recognized me that time at the mall. There was an obvious void and dullness in Uncle Charlie's previously sharp brown eyes and I could see that he had failed tremendously--even in one year. He was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. I went over to him at this funeral and gave him a kiss.

He looked at me and said, "Wendy." I smiled and said, "Yup--that's me!" And he grabbed my hand and said, "I'm sorry I didn't know who you were that day at the mall." He must have known how it hurt me. And I just hugged him and brushed it all off saying something about how we're all getting older and everybody's changing, etc. I said, "Not to worry!" But then, as he was leaving, he came over to me again and said, "I promise the next time I see you, I'll know you." I never forgot those words because they were the last words he ever said to me.

He went into a nursing home fairly soon after that and I never went to see him. I feared watching such a vital, lively person become demented. I felt very guilty after he died that I never went to see him, but I wanted his last words to me to be true. I knew if I went to visit him at the nursing home, he wouldn't know me.

At his funeral I was standing and talking to another one of my uncles and I felt a quick tug from behind on the strap of my pocketbook that was draped over my left shoulder. It was absolutely not my imagination because I remember thinking someone behind me wanted to get my attention but I waited for my uncle to complete his sentence before I turned around. When I turned around there was no one there. And there was nobody close enough to me to have walked away within the few seconds after the tug on my shoulder. I believe it was Uncle Charlie letting me know that he was there, he was okay, and he knew who I was.

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