A Tender Night

The night was clear, the stars shone above. The balmy day had turned into a beautiful evening. The wind soughed softly over the treetops. Sitting on my balcony I looked out, feeling peace in my heart. I felt this to be wonderful as I have not felt like that since my mother died six months ago.
I have always felt that I did not do too well with my mother, as I seldom visited her due to some falling out a long time ago. It was stupid, but as a teenager I was never one to say ‘Yes Mom’ and be done with that. It was always ‘Yes Mom’ and do something else.
When she died, I was the strong one. I never shed a tear, while my other siblings sobbed and cried into their handkerchiefs.  Even the boys. I felt that if I joined in the show of grief, no one would take care of the funeral. So I did not, and I arranged it perfectly. The prayers and rites were however arranged nicely by my eldest sister.
Anyway, on that balcony six months later, my mother was the furthest on my mind. I was just thinking about some books I have read. I laid down on my couch stationed strategically near the French windows and looked out into the blue sky.
I stared into it the longest time, and to my surprise, the bluish-dark sky turned green and then yellow and then coral pink. I was shocked but kept on laying on the couch, helpless.  
The sky turned totally dark as if there was nothing there and then from the distance I heard dirges; voices lamenting and crying as if their hearts were breaking.
Then I saw falling dead leaves from above, all brown and red and yellow. They fell around me, like cascades of confetti. I was still powerless to move and could only look around.
The cries of sorrow turned into low chants of some ancient liturgies, interweaving into the soughing wind which never let up since. The results were a low hum with keening sounds.
I listened to the sounds with fascination and avid interest as I have always been interested in ancient rites and language, especially of my people.
And then I heard a voice, soft and gentle, yet speaking as if it was from everywhere.
“Bless the sad and sorrowing hearts, bless them who strew the rose petals, bless them that tend the garden where none lives, and bless them that tend to blooms in the darkest dark.”
I laid there with my mouth open, amazed at the quality of the voice. The ethereal voice did not speak a language that I know, but I understood it perfectly. And then came a rustle of wings, so strong and loud that it I was shocked into sitting up. I felt a strong breeze against my face and then all died down.
There was an absolute silence. It was as if I was deaf. And then in the distance, I heard a lone car passed. I scrambled up and looked around me and at the floor. There was nothing there, no leaves, no petals…nothing.
I sat down, and suddenly my tears fell in cascades. It was good clean tears, not accompanied by wrenching sobs of sorrow and grief, but with such gentleness. I shed my tears of grief at last. Thanks to the visitation of angels, for I believe that they were indeed angels.