The white light in the middle of the stage intensifies and begins to take the shape of a humanoid form. The light is incredibly bright but it does not hurt one’s eyes to look directly at it. The mass of energy condenses into a woman in a simple flowy white cloak. Her long, wavy light brown hair hangs over one shoulder; the most beautiful and peaceful face comes into view. A large pair of out-stretched wings appear behind her and closes, framing her body, which has now completely solidified. The angel is from an upper phylum of the angelic dimensions; her name is Gabrielle; she brings the gift of inspiration and creativity to those she visits. Gabrielle dampers down the intensity of her light, knowing full well that spirits in this dimension cannot receive the full intensity of her energy for long. The wings change into an aura of golden energy which surrounds her and acts like shielding, filtering and dimming her light. For those, like the Old Ones, who can stand her full intensity can still see the wings on her back. The audience stands and claps in awe and excitement.

Unlike the others, Rosie is still seated and shaking uncontrollably in her seat.

Rosie: VVvvvvVVVVvvvvVVVVVvvvvVVV…

The adjacent woman turns to Rosie.

Woman: Are you all right, Rosie? Awww, her energy zapped you, didn’t it?

Rosie nods, still shaking.

Rosie: Sssssshe ddddid….ttthhhat bbbbitch….VVVvvVVvVVvvvvvVVVVvvv…

The woman laughs and places one hand on Rosie’s forehead and the other on her heart, and breathes deeply, taking the excess energy from her and grounds her. Rosie stops shaking.

Woman: There now, that’s better. She didn’t mean any harm, honey. You’re just not adjusted to our level of energy yet.

Rosie: I haven’t felt that kind of shock since that ass-wipe Bush got re-elected.

Woman: Rosie…please, your language.

The woman laughs nervously. Rosie raises an eyebrow at her.

Rosie (under her breath): …Pffft. I guess even Republicans are allowed in heaven.

Although the woman didn’t hear her, she understood what Rosie said telepathically and reacts with annoyance but she quickly forgives her. Music in the arena begins. Gabrielle starts her song and she sings with a purity and beauty unparalleled to anything Rosie has ever heard on Earth. The exquisite effect is indescribable for human understanding. The emotional texture of the song is similar to ‘La Califfa’, as sung by Sarah Brightman.

[CLICK HERE to hear Sarah Brightman’s ‘La Califfa’ on Rhapsody Online for free!]

Almost immediately, Rosie falls under the spell of the extraordinary beauty of the voice and music, and quickly forgives the angel for that initial shock. Throughout the arena, the auras of the attendees begin to shine even brighter, changing to a myriad of different colors. Rosie’s aura begins to glow brighter as well and various colored orbs of energy form and dance around her. The orbs surround her, taking her to another location in another dimension. In Rosie’s vision, the arena and the people around her fades out as another setting fades into view. Despite the transition, she can still hear the angel’s singing with the same clarity. Rosie finds herself on a cliff by the sea; the surrounding green hills appear even more beautiful than the ones seen in the previous dimension, if at all possible. The angel’s lyrical voice permeates the entire locale. Strangely enough, Rosie isn’t reacting at all to this unexpected dimensional shift. She is lost in musical ecstasy and is completely mesmerized by the singing, and for the moment, she has relinquished all her notions of self-determination and control. Her aura continues to dance around her, shimmering and casting different colors.

In the distance, the figure of a woman appears and walks towards her. Rosie’s focus shifts immediately to this distant figure, and in a split second, she starts to run, with all the energy she could muster, towards the woman. It seems to her that her legs could not carry her fast enough and she had forgotten that she was able to fly. After what felt like an eternity to her, Rosie reaches a distance a few feet of her and stands face to face with this woman. It is her mother. Rosie knew this the second the woman appeared in the distance. The woman beams at her with a beatific smile. She is holding a couple of large plates, one in each hand, but Rosie doesn’t notice them at all.

Rosie (barely audible): Mom…

The woman sets the plates down on the grass. She stands and opens her arms to Rosie. Blinded by her own tears, Rosie staggers forward and falls into her mother’s embrace. And in that moment, time seems to stand still for Rosie, as she feels the warmth of her mother’s back on her hands, the softness of her mother’s neck against her cheek, and she smells the familiar scent of a woman she had to waited so long to embrace again. Rosie begins to cry in a way she had when she was a child; the depth of her emotions is bottomless. The upwelling pain feels even more acute to Rosie with every stroke her mother makes on her hair.

Rosie moves her head back to look at her mother’s face. Her mother wipes away her tears in a manner she had missed so much.

Mom: Roseann…oh my Roseann.

Rosie looks into her eyes and instantaneously, by some mysterious process, she understands why her mother had to leave her life when she was so young. She understands the tragedy within the context of her mother’s spiritual planning. And faint memories of her agreeing to her mother’s early departure came to mind. And so, Rosie begins to heal.

Her mother picked up the two large colored plates on the grass and offers one of them to Rosie.

Mom: I thought you might want to help me carry one of the plates, just like in the old days.

Rosie looks at the plates.

Rosie: Limoges.

Mom: Yes. But never say ‘limoges’ at a flea market.

Rosie: I remember.

Her mother takes her hand and they walk towards her house, a villa with a red Spanish-tiled roof. Off to one side of house, steps lead down to the beach in a cove. Rosie takes it all in: every step, the warmth of her mother’s hand, the movement of the grass in the light breeze, her mother’s hair stirring in the wind, the weight and cool feel of the limoges in her hand, the rustling of her mother’s cloak against the grass, the salty smell of the air, the faint sound of waves crashing, the color of the distant ocean, a sudden squall of a passing seagull, the coolness of her face as her tears dry in the soft sea breeze, and most of all, her mother’s smile. Mother and daughter, reunited.

Way in the distance, a couple of figures are standing and observing. Danny turns his head and looks up at the Old One, standing next to him. They exchange a smile. The Old One hands him a handkerchief, which Danny makes full use of - dabbing his eyes and blowing his nose. Danny holds out his hands and a couple of Lemon Cielos in small glasses appear. He hands one to the Old One. They clink glasses and drink. The Old One pats Danny on the back and they walk away in silence.

The angel’s singing fades out.

(to be continued)…