submitted by Helen Roser

She died while I was mid-flight on my way to visit her in the hospital. She was 86, had fallen, and had complications.

In her town, when what appeared to be a driverless big car came grinding down the street in second gear, someone always chuckled, “Here comes Mary.” Barely five feet tall, she couldn’t see over the steering wheel, so she looked under it to see where she was going. Driving in second gear felt safer.

She wasn’t a joiner, but went quietly about tending her businesses. Word was out that if you were in a pinch, see Mary. The priest who bent the rules to conduct her funeral told me, “If ever an angel walked this earth, it was Mary.” Ineligible for a church funeral, hers was in the spacious funeral home which overflowed with tearful ones of wealth, business suits, and work clothes. There were many tears. 

Because I arrived too late to visit with my friend, her nurse told me of her last moments. 

Mary was too ill for visitors but heard the urgent voice outside her hospital room door. “It is very important! I must see her!” Mary told the nurse to let her come in. Wasting no time with words, the visitor rushed to Mary’s bedside and gasped: “We need $5,000 for our veterans’ Cheer Baskets!” Mary told the nurse to bring her purse and took out her check book and pen and wrote the check. My friend died holding her check book in one hand and her pen in the other.

 Not all angels fly. Sometimes they drive around in second gear, looking under the wheel.