My family arranged for me to see Don and Becky at the funeral home, hoping that would help me accept what had happened. But even as I touched their still, cold faces, I kept seeing the way they had shone as they approached those stairs in the fog. Even when I placed flowers on their coffins, I couldn't believe it. They were alive--I saw them. They were happy.

After coming home from the hospital, I slept with my face burred in one of Don's shirts and Becky's nightgowns every night. I drifted from corner to corner of my room, touching Becky's favorite stuffed animals I kept near me. They've just gone off somewhere together like they always do, I kept telling myself. But day after day passed and they didn't come back.

I felt like my life was a glass ball that had been dropped and shattered. I kept trying to put all the pieces together, but none of them matched up. I had not seen my husband and daughter ashen and lifeless in our van. I had seen them walk away from it, looking more alive than ever. If what I saw wasn't what happened, then how could I ever know what was real?

Dear God, I prayed,nothing makes sense anymore. Please help me understand.

One afternoon I was lying in bed with the window open, a breeze ruffling the curtains. It was sunny and warm and lazily comfortable-- just like the drive home right before my world had broken apart. Watching the curtains and the play of the light and shadow on the walls, I was reminded of the glow fluttering behind the figures in the mist the night of the accident. Like wings, I suddenly realized. "They were angels," I whispered to myself. All at once the pieces fell into place-- the figures, the staircase, the voice, the glow on Don's and Becky's faces. I had wanted so much to believe that my husband and daughter were going to come back to me that I hadn't been able to see the wonderful gift I had been given: the chance to see them go to a better place.

"You'll see them again," the voice had promised.

At last I understood. Don and Becky will never again come through the front door, laughing. But I will see them one day. They will be with the angels at the foot of those stairs in the mist-- together, as always-- waiting for me to join them.