was loving, and not just to me and my mom, but to everyone around him. He was honest and brave.” I shake my head, hearing the way my voice cracks. “He stood… oh God, he stood and was true when he saw something wrong. All he wanted to do was make everything okay for everyone. He was the one who chased the dark away when it got too close. He was the one who made me think everything would be okay, even if there was a chance it wouldn’t. He had this way about him that even when you were at your lowest, you’d feel his arm on your shoulder and hear his smile in his voice and you knew, you just knew, it would be okay.” Tears stream down my face, and I can do nothing to stop them. “He always did the right thing, no matter what it took. Even if it meant—” My voice catches in my throat, and I don’t think I can finish.
“Even if it meant what, Benji?” the archangel asks me kindly.
No, you bastard. You son of a bitch. I won’t say it. I can’t say it. Please don’t make me. I want to go home. I just want to go home.
“Benji?”
“Even if it meant sacrificing himself,” I choke out. “Even if it meant he wouldn’t be coming home, he had to do the right thing. He couldn’t stand by and watch the world go bad. He always had to do something to right the wrong. He always had to make a difference, to make it better.”
“And who did he do that for?”
“My mom,” I say, unable to hold back the sobs. “My aunts. His friends. His family.”
“And?”
“Me,” I whisper.
“Yes, Benji. You. He knew what it meant to sacrifice because of what you taught him by being his son. You enabled him to be a father and to know the true meaning of love, for what is love without sacrifice?”
“I never asked him to do that!” I cry at Michael.
“That’s just it: you didn’t have to,” Michael says, folding his hands in his lap. His wings shudder slightly, the white feathers rustling. “The act of sacrifice is by its very nature a selfless act. One cannot sacrifice unless one is doing not for himself, but for the greater good. Your father knew this, Benji. He knew it more than most people.”
“It’s not fair,” I mumble at him.
He gives me a sad smile. “It never really is. That’s the funny thing about life. The moments of joy and wonder may be far and few between, but when they arrive, they are more glorious because of their long absence. The trials and tribulations you must go through to reach that glory are a test to make sure you can appreciate what you are given.” He pauses, looking away. “May I tell you a secret, Benji?”
I nod, only because I don’t know what else to do.
“I told you once that I was jealous of my brothers, that I vied for my Father’s affections because I felt that he didn’t have enough to share with all of us. How would he notice me amongst all my brothers and all the levels of humanity? Jealousy is an emotion that leads to sin, as one begins to covet what another has. I sinned in the name of love, and it was a dark thing.” He looks back at me. “But I learned something, even being so young and brash. I eventually understood that my Father loved me just the same, as he did everyone else; that it wasn’t any more or any less. Because there were so many, he couldn’t love any one of them more. It would not have been fair. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“But you. It’s different with you. Your father did not have anyone else. He had no one else to share his love with, at least as a father does with a son. Benji, I might not know your father personally, but I have seen the design. I have seen the pattern, the shapes. Your father loved your mother. He loved his friends and this tiny little town from which you both came. But his love for you made all the rest pale in comparison.”
I hang my head.
He leans forward and puts a hand on my leg. “It’s not meant to make you sad, nor is it meant to be a slight against your father. His love for you is a powerful thing, like the brightest