Years ago, I read the account of an angel sighting written by a mother whose son was dying from terminal cancer. She’d entered his hospital room, only to find his bed empty. As she stepped back out into the corridor, she saw him walking slowly towards her, pulling along his IV cart behind him.
She reported that her son looked radiant, grinning at her with the brightest smile. “Hi Mom,” he said, “I've just been to the chapel to pray. I was sitting there — with an angel! He had most beautiful green eyes! Mom, it’s okay. I know that I’m going to be just fine...when it’s time.”