In April of 2005 my dad passed away after a battle with lung cancer. He was a tank of a man who used to carry steel on his shoulders when he worked construction as a young man. On my best day I could never have moved him an inch, even if I took a running start and tried to knock him down. He was a rock. It broke my heart to watch him waste away over the twelve months leading up to his death. In the end I was able to lift him up to change his clothes. I felt so bad for him because he had lost all of his strength. But God granted him a pain free death and he was not on heavy medication when he left us.

He died so painlessly I was instantly reminded of [a time] twelve months earlier when I prayed hard for my dad. I asked God to spare him. He was a very good man who had suffered the loss of two sons, one on 9/11 and one to leukemia. He worked two jobs most of his life but never lost his good spirit or his faith. I begged God not to allow him to suffer. As I was praying, I became filled with grief. I was overwhelmed with emotion. At the peak of my desperation, I heard a clear voice inside my head saying, "Don't worry, your dad is going to be fine. We are going to take care of him."

I was filled with a sense of relief. Was it my imagination? Was it my deceased brother speaking? Was it a spirit guide of some sort? I did not know. All I knew was that I began to feel better and I had hopes that my dad would be cured.

At first, this was correct. Dad reacted well to his chemo treatments and he seemed to be winning, but then things got worse and he started to waste away. He was able to enjoy life activities until the last few weeks of his life. He had a full year of travel, spending time with his family, and love. When his time came, he had no pain. He died at home with all of his faculties.

I realized then what the voice meant when it told me that my dad would be okay. The voice meant that my dad would not suffer, he would not have pain, and he would leave the world with dignity and courage. The voice did not promise a cure; only that he would be fine. When my dad's spirit went home, my mom and I spent the next day making his funeral arrangements and notifying relatives. My mom wanted a quick burial because it was what my dad would have wanted. He was never much for long, drawn-out affairs.

On the day of the funeral I found myself alone in my car. I was picking up my mom to bring her to the service. I was exhausted and I was slumped against the door of my car. I was not paying attention to the road. I was driving with one hand and looking sideways out of the window. I had not slept very well for several days and I was completely drained of all physical and mental energy. I felt so tired.

I had pictures of angels on the driver's side visor. I looked at them as I drove. I muttered aloud, "I am so tired. How am I ever going to get through this long day?"

All of a sudden, I felt pressure near me like the atmosphere had suddenly changed. I felt warmth in my feet and, without any explanation, the warmth traveled up to the tips of my hair. I bolted up behind the wheel of my car and my eyes popped open wide. I was totally filled with energy. It was like someone had just poured high-octane jet fuel into an empty gas tank. I was fully alert and bristling with vitality.

I knew without a doubt that an angel had just helped me. I cannot explain how I knew it, I just did. I had not taken any food or drink that morning, so it was not caffeine. I looked at the angel pictures on my visor and noticed that the names Azrael and Michael were on them. I knew that these archangels had helped me. I was an emotional wreck. Chances are, without their help, I probably would have had an accident and hurt someone or myself. I was able to help my family get through a very tough day without ever feeling tired.

Thank you, Angels.

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