Angels in My Hair

by Lorna Byrne

  I asked the angels who the woman was who was trying to talk to him: if it was his daughter, and he might listen to her or not. They replied, 'Lorna, can't you see his angels whispering in his ear. He does hear them, you know! See, he is crying now. He is letting his daughter take his arm. Now he is starting to make the right choices. It is never too late to make the right choice, if we are prepared to listen.'

  'I understand,' I said, 'will you angels always help me to make the right choices?'

  'Yes, Lorna, we will,' they replied.

  Sometimes, things only seem like tragedies. That's the way it was with Da's accident.

  He was working for a big petrol company, delivering paraffin, and there was an accident. This led to an offer of compensation by the company, but Da said he didn't want money, he wanted a permanent job. Eventually, the company offered him a contract as manager of a petrol station in the centre of Dublin. Da was presented with a choice, and undoubtedly the angels helped him to choose the right thing. This permanent job gave my parents some financial stability and, finally, they were able to afford a deposit on a home of their own.

  My father's accident was a blessing in disguise. Sometimes tough things have to happen in order for people to change, and for things to change in their lives. Miracles happen all the time. People just fail to notice them.

  Chapter Six

  Absorbing the pain of others

  I had learning difficulties which no one understood fully so my parents decided I shouldn't go back to school when we moved to the new house in Leixlip, despite the fact that I was only fourteen. I was hurt that they didn't consult me about this; being taken out of school was another example of being treated differently by my parents. They may not have sent me away, as had once been suggested to them, but they did treat me differently.

  I saw things getting easier financially, but none of this seemed to make a difference in relation to me. We now had a telephone. My brothers and sisters used the phone all the time and nothing was ever said to them, but when I asked to use it I would be told how much it cost and wouldn't be allowed. When I wanted to have a bath, I'd be told 'No' or 'Only a little one'. This happened so often that I was afraid to ask if I could have a bath, so I used to just fill the basin with water to wash myself so that I wouldn't have to ask only to be refused. I never really understood; I still don't now, but I was treated very differently, as if I was worth less than the others.

  I helped Mum around the house and garden, watching as my brothers and sisters went off to their new schools. One evening, while I was sitting at the table having dinner with my Mum and brothers and sisters, Mum announced that she wanted me to go with her to a funeral the following day. A relative had died and she didn't want to go on her own. My brothers and sisters were very interested in who the relative was; my brother, Dillon, wanted to know her name.Mum said, 'Theresa,' and she showed us a photo.

  'We'll have to get an early bus,' Mum said, 'as we have to travel to the far side of the city and at the other end we have to walk to the church, which will take us about ten minutes.'

  The next day was very cold. As soon as my brothers and sisters had gone to school, Mum told me to dress up warmly and I put on my coat, hat, scarf and gloves. Mum took a brolly as well, just in case it rained.We headed down to the bus stop. On the bus I sat looking out the window, thoughts going through my mind, wondering what a funeral would be like. This was a first for me.

  A while later, Mum turned to me and said, 'We are nearly there. Now remember, Lorna, you are to stand beside me all the time and not wander off. You could get lost.'

  The bus came to a stop and we got off. There was a good walk to the church, which was crowded. Everyone was so sad. The priest said the Mass and I watched everything with my eyes open wide.

  After the service, we went to the graveyard, which was quite close to the church – just a short walk away. There, in the graveyard, I was amazed to see how many angels were standing crowded among my relatives – most of whom were strangers to me. I saw a large crowd of people there and I moved a little away from the crowd to have a better look. Mum was busy talking and did not notice. There was an angel standing at a bush beside a grave; a beautiful angel dressed in a human way, but she was a vibrant, sky blue. I asked her, 'Why are all the angels here?'

  I'd often seen angels in graveyards before, but there were so many here. She smiled at me and said,

  'Lorna, we know you still have lots to learn: this is one place where angels are called on, one place where people are in pain and grief and are crying out, "Oh God, help me! I can't cope with this alone", so this is a place we gather.'

  This beautiful blue angel took me by the hand and guided me through the large crowd at the funeral.We weaved our way through the throng; it was as if the crowd parted to let us pass and, although people must have noticed me moving, no one tried to stop me.We kept walking until we were at the very far side of the mourners who were gathered around the grave.

  There at the edge of the group, by a headstone, was the spirit of Theresa, my relative who was being buried that day – I recognised her from the photo that Mum had shown us the night before. Theresa was surrounded by some ten angels, maybe more; she was so beautiful, much more so than in her photograph; like a beautiful daffodil, just glowing, with the light shining out of her. This beautiful spirit was being allowed to watch her own funeral. As I joined her, she turned around and asked the angels who were with her to send angels to all of her grieving relatives. (The spirit of someone who has just passed over can ask for the angels to console and help those who are left behind.)

  As Theresa asked this, angels instantly flew to the side of everyone who was there in the graveyard – friends and acquaintances as well as relatives. In many cases it wasn't just one angel who went to a person, but a group of them. The angels were so gentle and kind; putting their hands on people's shoulders, whispering in their ears, rubbing them gently on the head. In one case I watched the angels embrace a person as if with human arms – I was told that this person had lost someone at another time and was secretly grieving for that loss, too.

  I will always remember the beauty of what that blue angel showed me. She radiated such compassion and understanding; I have to laugh when I think how absurd it is that someone has to die in order for us to ask angels for help. We need not wait until we are desperate and in great pain to ask for this assistance: we should be asking every day, or every month, or once a year: 'I want my angels with me through everything I do'. This simple request will empower the angels to help us.

  Ever since that day, whenever I am going past a graveyard, I glance in. I always see angels there. If there is a funeral going on it will be full of angels but even if there is just a single person there, they will be surrounded by angels giving them the comfort that they require.

  Some months after we moved into the new house, Da came home from work with good news for me. It was autumn and still bright outside: it was probably around seven o'clock, or maybe later, because Da worked long hours. He followed his normal routine of going into the big, long sitting room, settling onto the couch and turning on the TV to watch the news, and just relaxing after his long day. Sometimes I would watch him; I never told him I could see his angel there with him, or the energy field around him. At times I would see his energy take a sigh and droop down – that's the only way I can explain it. As he sat there, Mum would bring in his dinner from the kitchen and put it on to a small wooden table so he could eat and watch the TV at the same time. This evening, though, he asked me, 'Would you like to come and work with me in the petrol station? You can see how you like it – it would be a start for you.'

  I was so delighted I could have kissed my Da, but, as always, I held back. Da was a very good man and accepted me in a lot of ways; I always felt he knew something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. But the angels had been telling me since I was a young child there was a very real possibility that I would be locked up: I was continually warned by them t
hat if I gave either of my parents any cause, I would be sent to a mental institution. Because of this, I was never over-emotional with Da, and I was very careful about how I behaved around him.

  A few days later, I started work. On that first day I had breakfast, said goodbye to Mum, and went off with Da in the car to the garage – The Grosvenor, as it was called. It was in Rathmines, a suburb of Dublin. It was in a very good location for a garage: on a corner in the middle of a busy junction, with main roads to the right and left of it. The garage was a big old house, with a large forecourt and four petrol pumps, a diesel pump, an air hose and a water tap. It was smelly and damp, literally falling down – a reminder of our house in old Kilmainham. Part of it was used for offices, part for selling things like tyres, puncture repair kits, batteries and other basic essentials for cars, and there was also a big room for puncture repairs.

  I was very excited on my first day, but also very nervous: I was scared that I might let Da down by doing something stupid or silly. I didn't want to disappoint him. But I needn't have worried, everyone was very nice and helpful, and the angels, of course, also helped. I learnt how to do all kinds of different jobs: to serve petrol, sell things and I also started to learn some of the office work. There were nine or ten people working there – all men except for a lovely lady called Anne, who took me under her wing from that first day. I got on very well with her and she taught me an awful lot.

  My first day at work was great, and I went home with Da at the end of it quite happy with myself. I did wonder that day, and at other times, how it was that Da didn't notice that I had no problem serving petrol or giving back the right change, and yet he continued to think I was retarded.

  Shortly after I started work, it was decided to demolish the old garage and build a new one. Early one Saturday or Sunday morning, I sat in the car with Da and watched with fascination as they hit the old building with a big demolition ball until it tumbled down. Eventually, a wonderful new modern garage was built; there was a new shop, new petrol pumps and a very bright and nice new office with big windows which I could look out of. From the office you could see into the shops and out onto the forecourt with the petrol pumps.

  As always, the angels showed me lots of things. One day, they told me to watch a regular customer, a man called John, whom I knew well. 'Watch him; he's going to steal from your Da.'

  Da considered John a very wealthy man and an important customer, so I was shocked when the angels said this. I said, 'Go away, he's not going to steal!'

  'He is,' they insisted, 'you can watch – he won't see you.'

  I still didn't believe them; I watched John talk to Da and I heard him complimenting him on the new shop and all the different things he was selling. Da invited him to have a good look around, then went off to do something else. I was in the shop alone with John, but the angels told me he couldn't see me. I said, 'Listen, angels, of course he can see me, I'm flesh and blood.'

  But they laughed at me and said, 'No, he can't see you!'

  Sometimes the angels tell me something but I don't understand it fully. They told me this man couldn't see me, but suddenly I understood: he couldn't see me because they had made me invisible to his eyes.

  I watched as John walked around and looked at everything, including the new music cassette tapes that Da had got in (cassettes were expensive then). He picked up a cassette and put it in his pocket. I couldn't believe it.

  'Why?' I asked the angels.

  'It's something he does all the time,' they replied. 'He steals; stealing makes him feel as if he's got one up on someone else.'

  The angels explained that, when John saw someone being successful or doing well, it made him envious and his response was to take something from them that he thought was of value.

  'Should I tell my Da?' I asked the angels.

  Do you know what they replied? It might be hard to believe, but they told me, 'No! Some day this man's conscience will get at him for all the things that he has stolen in the past; but this is not the moment. This is not the right time. Just leave it.'

  I felt very sad; John had been coming into the garage for years. After that, whenever he came into the shop, I would follow him around, pretending to be cleaning.

  One day, I was in the office sitting at the desk with Anne and double-checking the figures in the ledger. Anne was a great secretary and she taught me a lot; sometimes I was amazed with myself that I found it so easy. That particular day we did a lot of work together. The shop door opened and a man walked in; I got up from the desk and went out to serve him. While I was serving him, I noticed a quietness about him and a stillness in the air; I noticed, too, that he didn't talk much either. I gave him what he was looking for, said goodbye to him and he left the shop.

  As I walked into the office and back up to the desk, there was not a sound to be heard; Anne did not move. I stood behind her to the left, looking out the window and an angel put its hand on my shoulder. The forecourt looked empty: there was just one parked car beside one of the petrol pumps. I looked down the street as far as I could see. I could not see around the corner, but then, all of a sudden, I was allowed to see: I saw young boys on bicycles cycling up the road towards the garage.

  These boys were happy, laughing and joking with each other, reaching out and touching each other, having a good time. I could hear them talking to each other, but could not hear clearly what they were saying. I stayed focused on them. A car passed them; as if in slow motion, everything else was completely still; it was as if I was right there with the boys on a bicycle myself. Then I saw an articulated truck, coming up the road behind the boys. I held my breath. In that moment I knew what was going to happen next. The car was gone now and the truck and the boys were the only things moving.

  The boys continued to enjoy their cycle, racing each other up the road, reaching out to each other and laughing. Everything was in slow motion again: the articulated truck passed and, as it did, both the boys and the truck became luminous. They passed through each other like ghosts. The truck went around the corner and on up the road, the driver completely unaware of what had happened. There was no loss of continuity; everything flowed on. The boys were oblivious to what had just happened; it was as if they had never fallen. They had never noticed; they just carried on following the truck, enjoying their cycle. Then, as the truck drove on, an enormous circle of light appeared – it was as if it came from the back of the truck itself.

  Suddenly the road was thronged with angels. The boys and their bikes were luminous and they were heading towards the light. As I watched, the bikes started to slowly rise above the ground and the road became a beam of light, full of angels. It was a gentle crossover from one life, to be born into another life – straight to Heaven. Then the boys disappeared and everything returned to normal.

  Suddenly a car drove into the garage and a man got out shouting, 'Did you see in which direction the articulated truck went?'

  The man in the kiosk, Steven, shouted, 'What's wrong?'

  The man said there had been an accident: someone told him that the truck had gone off to the right and the man took off in his car again. Just then, another car passed the garage, moving very fast up the road. I just stood there, kind of dazed.

  The shop door opened and I turned around. It was Da, saying there had been a terrible accident and asking me to make some tea. I was relieved to get out of the office and have a little bit of space. As I walked round to the canteen to make tea, I gave out to the angels, saying, 'Why did that have to happen?'

  The answer I got was, 'Lorna, that is the way. Death for most humans is a continuous flow from one life to another, in perfect harmony. Remember, at that moment of death the boys felt nothing. It's the same even if someone has been sick and suffering; at the moment of death they don't feel any pain.'

  The angels comforted me while I made tea and continued working, but I was glad when the day was over and I could go home to Mum's baking. When I got home, I gave my mum a big hug. From that da
y on, I was conscious of the importance of giving my mother a hug each day.

  I knew I would have to go past the spot where the accident happened again. So, one morning, about a week later, I got up the courage to walk down to the shops. I did not go there alone, as Michael held my hand. As I walked across the forecourt of the garage he whispered in my ear, 'Walk down to the hardware store: that will help you to focus; you will have somewhere to go to.'

  As I approached the spot where the accident had happened, I could see blood stains on the road. I was amazed and shocked. The accident had happened maybe a week before, and I never thought I would see bloodstains on the road; it was like a bolt of lightning hitting me. It may have been that the bloodstains were not there for everyone else to see;maybe only I could see them.

  As I was passing the exact spot where the accident had happened, I could hear the wailing cries of the mothers, fathers and families of those boys. The emotion filled my body – tears ran from my eyes, it was overpowering. I asked God, 'Please help the families. Let me take as much of their pain and grief as possible. Somehow, let the parents know that their children are in Heaven with you. Please, God.'

  I was in a state of oblivion; completely unconscious of everything going on around me. Somehow the angels carry me through space and time; sometimes I wonder how I get from one spot to another. It is a mystery. Then, suddenly, I was standing in front of the door of the hardware store. I felt the angels lift me out of spiritual space and put my feet back on firm ground. 'It's done now, Lorna,' Michael said. 'God heard your prayer.'

  I walked through the doors into the hardware store and wandered around the shop, just to get myself grounded and back to normal. Then I walked back towards the garage again, past the accident spot. I knew I had taken away some of the families' pain and grief. I can't tell you which is worse: the pain within the physical body, or the pain within the emotional body. I will always do what God and the angels ask of me: if I can take pain away from another human being, I will do it.