*Read while listening to "What About Angels"*
My grandma once told me that our angels are the people we lost that made a difference in our lives. I met my angel when I was three.When I was really little, I had this best friend and his name was George. On the first day of school in preschool, he defended me against the mean kids who made fun of accent. And after we did literally everything together. We in the same preschool and kindergarten classes. We even lost our first tooth on the same day.
And then one day, my mom told me that George had something called a tumor. I told her that I wanted a tumor too, because George was my best friend and we did everything together. My mom cried and told me not to say things like that. I was confused and asked why not.
It was then that she told me that George was sick, that tumors hurt you. I asked if Georgie was gonna die. Mommy looked at me and told me she didn't know.
I ran to my room and cried and cried. I didn't come out until my mom said we could visit George in the hospital.
So we went there. George was lying on a bed, hooked up to wires and machines that made funny sounds. But he lifted his head when I came in. "Hi Annie!" he called, face brightening.
"Hi George!" I told him. And then we talked like always. Everything was okay.
When I got home, Mom told me that George's family didn't have enough money to pay for doctors to take the tumor out of George's brain. So, for the entire summer, when I wasn't sitting at home with George or playing games with him, I was raising money. I had car washes, lemonade stands, anything you could think of.
At the end of the summer, Mommy and I counted up the money, and we were going to give George the money when his mother called and said that George's body was failing and we had to come say good bye.
The hardest moment of my life was when I stood next to my mom, tears rolling down my cheeks, and holding the box of money I had worked so hard saving up over the Summer. "Bye George," I whispered, grabbing his hand. And then the machines started beeping and Mommy made me turn away , and everyone was crying, and the next thing I knew, George was gone.
Now every year on April 20, I have a lemonade stand in honor of George, in honor of the day that he died. I donate the proceeds to cancer research.
George would loved that. He loved helping people.
One April 20, not so long ago, I found myself walking a little too close to the middle of the road, because a car was coming straight at me. It would have hit me had it not been for a golden retriever who knocked me out of the way.
When I had recovered from the shock, I bent down to read the dog's nametag.
It said one word.
Goodbye, George. You were the best friend anyone could ever have.
You were my angel, and if only you were still alive, I have no doubt you would be a lot of other people's angels too.
A/N: this is not a true story, but it does mirror one about a little boy I once knew. Yes, I cried writing this.
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Is the little voice that whispers
When the rest of the world is screaming