An evening sky aglow, painted by a little boy’s faith

BY MICHELE MILLER

---

For my 7-year-old son Jesse, the loss of his younger sister seen an enormous burden for him to bear. How I want to act as his surrogate, envisioning myself the “mother sponge.” absorbing his grief, sopping up his pain. But as with Danielle, this is one of those rites of passage.

Jesse wants specific answers about heaven. He wants to know, for instance, what angels eat or if they have to go to the bathroom. My ideas about heaven are ever-evolving and based on what I have learned to be faith, but I cannot pour it into a cup and tell him to drink up. It is he who muse delve into himself, dig it out and offer it up.

One day, on a torn piece of paper, in a childish scrawl, Jesse writes a note to his sister in heaven that simply says:

Dear Danielle,

We love and miss you. How is heaven?

Love Jesse
xoxoxoxo

He ties the note to a pink helium balloon given to him by a waitress at a local restaurant and sends it to heaven. He chooses pink, he says, because it’s his sister’s favorite color.

Jesse checks the mail every day, eager for Danielle’s reply and when it does not come, he wonders aloud about this place called heaven and if it really exists.

That evening, during a supper-time journey, Jesse and I are confronted with the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. Countless shades of pink and purple surround the sizzling sphere that bursts through a clearing sky. We pause for a time, in breathtaking silence.

Jesse suddenly pipes up beside me, “Danielle did this you know – she paints the pink and purple sunsets.”

I cannot help but smile at the thought of Danielle dancing across the sky equipped with a giant paintbrush, creating this masterpiece for us. I give Jesse a nudge and ask, “Do you think that’s her way of answering your letter?”

Eyes wide with reason he answers, “Uh-huh,” and pointing his small thumb to his chest he continues, “Some things you can’t see with your eyes, Mom. Some things you have to see right here with your heart.”

I am a jumbled mass of emotion in this moment, but there in the midst is the distinct sense of joy. Ever the spectator, I have witnessed the birth of a little boy’s faith.

As we bask in the evening glow, twilight steadily approaching, I am struck with the glorious sights before me – this dazzling sunset that bears a message from beyond, and my son beside me, pinks and purples reflecting in his eyes, his hand held over his heart, as he salutes his sister.

Note: The above essay, written for Mother’s Day in May of 1992, prompted local editors to offer Michele Miller a freelance position coordinating school news for the Pasco bureau of the St. Petersburg Times/Tampa Bay Times. That led to some 25 years of covering local news in New Port Richey and beyond. She can be reached at mmiller@whatswhatnewportrichey.com.

---

---