They thought your trips and stumbles were the sign,
the end was near, and whispered as you walked
that the angel of Death had given you a fright.
No one saw how the angels held your arm and let you stand,
Walking straight and true with dignity and grace.
Or how they whisper that everyone would be ok,
Your strength and courage a final and forever gift,
Your little angel now grown can fly on her own,
No need to tend the nest, others will do that now,
Just be at peace.
You are among the ancestors, now.