It was only an angel

The church is quiet. Only the children are heard moving around and cooing at their mothers. My pew is empty. Well, it was until a couple I've never seen before sits at the other end. My cane at my side and my unlit candle in the shelf, I lean back in the creaking pew. It has been about an hour or so into the service and my legs are already weak. I sit when everyone is standing and sit when everyone is sitting. The priest chants over and over what he would chant every other Holy Saturday. It's about 11:40, and the church is almost filled. Our small community is doubled during the holidays--especially holy week.
If I could turn around I would to watch the people enter. See who's new and who shows up once a year for the holidays. The choir starts singing, and the cantors give dirty looks to them because they're offbeat...again.
The lights are soon to be turned off while we celebrate the rebirth of our Lord. The Priest will light his candle and then enter the congregation and light one candle. The fire spreads through the church like wildfire and soon, we'll all be holding the light of the world in the palms of our hands.
The doors to the altar close, and the lights flick off. I stand with my candle ready. Clap! Something must have fallen...my candle? no...my--where's my cane? I feel around the pew and I don't feel my trusty walking side kick.

A flash of white enters my view from behind and snatches up my walking stick, and places it next to my right hand leaning on the back of the pew in front of me. She's in all white. Almost like a second skin to pair with her pale peach flesh. Dark hair mingling with great black wings, outstretched to reach the other side of the isle. A curious darkness grouped with such a light and airy woman. Her round face looks up kindly at me, to pat my hand once my cane was returned. Her wings catch the glint of the first flickering candles, shimmering off slick feathers that inhale and exhale beauty as she does. Gleaming with the fire of rebirth. Eyes shining with a flickering golden light reflected from a far away candle look as if she's a messenger from the fires of heaven.

She then slips behind me. Her white waist gone from view. If only I could turn around and see her face one more time. To memorize the warmth of her shape, her eyes, her wings. The altar boy comes to me aglow with light. His candle outstretched towards mine. I take the light and spread it to the couple down the pew.
"Eleison Imas!" The priest starts up again. The lights slowly returning. The choir continuing their chanting. And a voice. A lovely voice that I could imagine belonged to that lovely angel. I touch the worn handle of my cane resting on the pew. The voice continued, singing with the choir, responding to the priests cantor.

For the rest of that service, I felt like I was ready. I had seen my angel, doing the very littlest thing for me. And I was ready. Ready to face whatever was ahead of me after this life. I have lived my life. I'm almost 90 and deserve some rest.
As the mass ends, the priest comes down the isle singing Xristos Anesti, urging the rest of the congregation to join in. I turn to follow him  and see my angel in full light. She's two rows behind me, standing tall and staring into the shaky flame of her light. A beautiful girl in a white dress with a black sweater. Her round face smiling gently at Father, giving a kind hello once he passes. Giving kindness with the smallest gesture. She sings to the final hymns of the choir with the voice I imagined was hers.

 I thought I'd seen an angel, but it had only been a girl.

Author's Note

holy saturday midnight mass inspiration. It's not that good, but I had to get it down.