Progressive Properties is aggressively taking over where small neighborhoods once flourished. Now Angelique's Shelter, St. Gabriel's, is under attack. Who shows up at her door to deliver the news? John McDougal, now a prominent property attorney, an...
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Angelique inched towards the memorial. Waiting patiently for the old woman to step away. Could he really be gone? It didn't seem possible.
It cheered Angelique's heart to see the riot of color that contrasted so sharply against the dark wood antiques of the funeral home parlor. Numerous floral arrangements gathered at the front of the room surrounding a display of pictures filled with memories of Francis McDougal. So many came to say goodbye to an obviously loved man.
Angelique found her basket of white lilies and smiled. They lay strategically placed next to her favorite picture of him. His kind eyes smiled at her as he stood among the poinsettias he used to decorate St. Joseph the Worker Church every Christmas. His pride in a job well done, evident in his stance. You could find the joy of that special season in his smile.
She moved closer. Close enough to touch one of the white trumpets, staining her fingertips with the pollen shaken loose. She put up quite a fight to get these flowers here. Not being in season, the florist had thrown a fit when she told him her choice for the arrangement.
The lilies would have been poinsettias if it was possible, but remembering his love of lilies at Easter, she felt satisfied with her choice. Besides, she liked what they symbolized. Such a symbol of life seemed more appropriate for this solemn occasion.
The older woman dabbed away her tears with a handkerchief and moved on. Angelique hesitated. Nestled among all that riot of color would be his ashes tucked safely in an urn. It seemed so cold and unreal. She now stood in front of the silver engraved vessel. The reality could no longer be ignored. Francis McDougal is never coming home. Tears stung her eyes as she read, "Here are the ashes of Francis McDougal. Devoted Husband, Loving Father, and Loyal Friend. We will miss you."
"Your ashes are here, but you are not, are you?" Angelique took a deep breath, desperate to fight the wave of emotion threatening to pull her under. "Your spirit lives on. I know it does, in your sons and in all those who love you. I miss you," Angelique said, placing her fingertips to her lips and then to his picture. Bowing her head, she prayed.
John McDougal knew the instant Angelique entered the room, feeling her presence before finding her in the crowd of mourners who came to pay their respects. His love for her felt almost painful at times. She was his father's favorite, even though she held no relation to him. How his father had loved her. The last years of his father's life became filled with agony and grief. Only the occasional visit from Angelique would shake him out of his sullen existence. She never failed to make him smile.
They were left destitute when the steel mill closed, and his father never recovered. John only had one more year of high school left but sacrificed his education, knowing the difficulty his father would have trying to pay for two tuitions. Michael only ten at the time had a long way to go before he finished school.
Michael is now seventeen. He begins his Senior Year this fall. He worked so hard last year. He earned top grades and ranked in the top five of his class. Two days ago he received notice of a partial scholarship he had won. Dad would have been so proud.
