The Angel of Hope

After my first-born son moved to his first apartment, around year 2000, I wanted to transform his fishing themed bedroom into a work of art guest bedroom. I wanted this to be a weekend project that involved a beautiful faux finish. My plan was to bring a more inviting look and feel to the room by using a paint technique known as “color washing.” One of the first things any decorator will do is tell you to pick a theme. I chose the classic child’s prayer, “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.” My plan was to accessorize the room with adorable cherub angels.  

One of the first things I had to do was remove two wallpaper borders. If you look closely at the before photos, you’ll see the border was outdoor living, with a river, and a fisherman, etc. That was my first born, through and through. Anyhow, after removing the borders and washing the glue residue from the walls, I painted the room white as a base coat. Once the base coat was dried, I climbed a ladder to apply inexpensive automobile vinyl lettering to spell out the classic child’s prayer around the perimeter of the room. I peeled the backing off press-on vinyl letters to reveal my favorite child’s prayer. This was very time consuming, but…ohhh…so well worth the trouble.

Then I taped off baseboards, doors, window trim, and the ceiling. In a separate container, I mixed four parts glaze to one part paint. Note the more glaze you add, the more transparent the effect. Also, the more paint you add to the glaze, the more opaque the effect. Next, I dipped a comfortable-sized rag into my glaze mixture. Then I bunched up the soft wet rag and applied it to the wall in random wiping or circular motions like I did earlier when I washed the walls. Every so often, I stepped back to make sure that the swirls were consistent. Beautiful little swirls can get out of hand and become tornados! Tip: When you color wash an entire room, glaze walls opposite from one another first. This will allow adequate time for drying and avoid smudging the wet glaze when you get to the corners. 

I waited for the paint to dry thoroughly before I removed the vinyl lettering. I was pleased with my masterpiece. The room really did turn out to be a one-of-a-kind piece of art!

That’s all I have for my weekly design blog. But wait…! If you have time, stick around. Since I’m writing about angels, let me share a true experience that relates to angels.

This happened during an afternoon before Covid-19: I went to get both, a pedicure and a manicure, a pastime I miss terribly. Anyways, I guess going to a nail salon during the middle of a weekday is the best time because there was no waiting. In fact, there were only two patrons present. I was told to sit next to an elderly woman whose feet were already soaking in water and whose nose was in a paperback. I scooted into a massage chair, slipped off my sandals, and made myself comfortable. After I lowered my feet in the vibrating warm blue water, I glanced over at the legs belonging to the customer right next to me.

That’s when I saw it.

An angel. Through the lace-like purplish varicose veins, and bruised, tanned and weathered skin, I saw a tattoo. There she was, a girl with angel wings.

“Is that an angel?” I said.

The moment the woman looked up and away from her book to look at me, I saw that she was much older than I originally thought. I nodded toward her leg. I repeated, “Is that an angel?” Then she followed the direction of my eyes.

A small smile played on her lips as she replied, “The Angel of Hope.” Her voice was warm and genuine. 

I gazed at the old woman next to me as she went back to her book. I had never heard of this angel before. So I used my cell phone to google some information.

According to AngelasHouse.org this angel is a symbol for parents who have endured the death of a child, and more importantly, it represents a way to honor our children. Our children will live in our hearts and lives forever. The website said that our children live through us; and their lives can touch many others through us. It went on the say parents need to feel hope that they will survive and move on, and that their children will never be forgotten.

There is no “worst part” when you lose a child. It is all pain, misery, anguish, and torture. I know because I lost my 33-year-old son, on April 16, 2014, during a boating accident. Andrew Rose was missing for 22 days after a boat he was on capsized in Lake Erie. There were three other occupants when the boat flipped over, under circumstances that are still not clear. All four boaters didn’t come home, they all drowned. How is it conceivable that I was there when my son entered this world, but couldn’t as much as say “goodbye” before he left it? When you meet grief, you learn something not everyone knows: it never leaves. Grief’s ache remains, forever reminding you of what you’ve lost. (Incidentally, the above “before” pictures and blog were of Andy’s bedroom.)

Anyhow let’s get back to the spa salon story. I contemplated how to ask. Ultimately, I decided to just come right out and ask. This is not something that I would normally do…ask a complete stranger…a question of this kind.

“Did you lose a child?”

“No,” she answered.  Perhaps she sensed my curiosity, because she immediately added, “I just thought she was beautiful and wanted the tattoo.”

Then as if it wasn’t against her nature to speak to common strangers, she began to share glimpses of her life with me: married to man who had been in the US Navy for 24 years, had one 45-year-old son, one 24-year-old grandchild. I listened as I watched her blue eyes through her dark brown framed eyeglasses. Her dyed short-cropped hair matched the color of her spectacles. The map of wrinkles on her face told of a most incredible journey.

I glanced at her petite hands with wrinkles and folds of skin that were now so pronounced it was hard to tell what her hands must have looked like as a young woman. Yet her nails were nicely manicured.

Thoughtfully she spoke of her deep love for her husband. She described how he went to college after the Navy, then went on to get a medical degree, completed a residency, was a doctor until retirement.  

When her pedicure was finished, she slipped out of the massage chair, and then stood next to me. “It was nice talking to you, dear.”

I smiled as I watched her make her way to the front door. She looked back at me and waved. A passing thought came to me: I realized that I didn’t even know her name.

In the end it didn’t matter. She left me with something more. Later I learned that all across the United States, parents who have lost children are putting together Angel of Hope memorial gardens in honor of their loved ones. The idea is simple: a serene statue of an angel rests among the trees in a park, giving a space for families to sit and think about their children. I imagine these memorial gardens to be peaceful, tranquil places while remembering their loved ones.