Novel & Cerita Angel Urns For Mom

"We can't afford it! They said that the antique is a porcelain statue from the Yuan dynasty and it's worth around three hundred million! They were really aggressive! They've grabbed your father and have threatened to kill him if you don't pay them back." An antique where three hundred million? Angela's face turned pale. "Our company is still hold hundreds of millions, they wouldn't be able to cough up three hundred million even if they sold their house. She told her mother not to panic, Jate and she would head over to take care of the matter. Jate noticed that Angela's face had lost all color after her phone call. So he furrowed his eyebrows and asked her what had happened. Angela explain th

The urns are a pair, glazed with a deep red and decorated with intricately carved designs of flowers and leaves. “Where did you find these urns? They're beautiful.” “Oh, those?” Marcela waves her hand. “I had them imported from Greece. The real thing, you know. They’re ancient... Just like you.” Whoa! I did not see that coming.

How had we not thought about that yet? We finished dinner and helped Mom clean up before we took our leave. Aunt Ziyah had linked us that she had made progress on the identity of Angel’s mother, and Angel asked if we could go over tonight and see what was found. She was already waiting outside her house, sitting down on the steps. Her elbows resting on her knees. In her hands was the little angel plushie that Mom had given to her shortly after she was saved. It was to represent her mother who was watching over her. That plushie was one of Angel’s prize possessions and meant everything to her.

No wonder the first son is way older than the second. She pulled out a vessel, and she sighed. “My Mom and Dad´s wedding chalice...” she said, and then smiled. “It is a blessed chalice, it belonged to my Grandfather Engelbert...” She smiled, “Engelbert?” I asked, and she nodded. “Yeah, my Mother is an angel princess, her father was the most powerful angel there was...” she beamed, and I nodded. “Is there an ark full of angel treasures?” I blurted, and she froze...

I finished the urn. I smoothed its curves, I refined the imperfect butterflies, I let it dry, and then I fired it in the small kiln. The process was meditative. Each step was a ritual, a final act of love for my daughter. When it was done, it was warm from the kiln, its earthy brown glaze a stark contrast to the cold, polished porcelain of the original. Carefully, reverently, I transferred Angela's ashes. They were all that was left of her laugh, her dreams, her tiny, perfect hands. They settled into the home I had made for her, a home made with love, not just purchased with wealth.

"Hello, Mom." Angela sat in her wheelchair, impeccably dressed, exuding the elegance of a distinguished lady from a prestigious family. Her hair was neatly styled, and the pearls in her ears glimmered, hinting at the beauty she had in her youth. However, the unfortunate marriage and her life's hardships had left deep marks on her face. Angela's expression was somber and harsh, her eyes shadowed with a severity that made her look much older than her years.

I entered the ward, and saw Angela, combing the hair of a baby doll, she was still receiving IV fluids, and it's hard paying for her stay here in the hospital. "Angela" I called her name, and she looked at me, with a smile on her face. "Where is mom?" I asked. "She stepped out to get some food, she will come back soon" She said and resumed combing the baby doll's hair. "Who gave you the baby doll, Angela?" I asked, sitting beside her on the bed. "Karen came here earlier and she gave one of her baby dolls to me saying I shouldn't die so I can return it to her" Angela said.

Morrow City, November 21. When Angela left home, the weather was still clear. By the time she reached the cemetery, rain began to fall. Despite being someone who rarely ever carried an umbrella, she had been unusually prepared today and brought one with her. Because today was her mother’s birthday. There was a strange pattern—every year on her mother’s birthday, it rained. When her father was alive, he liked to joke with her mother. “Your lifespan must be longer than a turtle’s.”

"Cheryl ... Maybe forever you will remember Mom, as evil Mom, cruel Mom. Sorry for all that. Mom is just an ordinary human. Mom has wounds that cannot be healed until now. Forgive Mom. Try the best for yourself, and I want you always to be happy. When you like your friend, not playing Mom, it's nice that there are people besides Mom who can make you happy. Some people can make you laugh. Mom is happy, you finally grow up, but Mom knows your feelings for the wrong person, I forbid. Yes, sorry, Mom, who made you not have time to feel any love. Forgive Mom's inability to do this. Forgive Mom's past, which makes you never happy living in this world. Forgive all these limitations, but ... Mami lo

“Hello.” Back in Moore Manor, Mrs. Lawson had thought of all sorts of ideas to keep Angel company for the entire morning and it was time for Mrs. Lawson’s to start preparing lunch in the kitchen. Angel headed back to her bedroom, carrying a Dora doll. It was a gift to her from her mother. Angel missed her mother very much despite still being slightly mad at her. Angel could no longer hold back as she picked up her handphone and called her mother. After a few seconds of silence, Angel voiced out, “Mommy!”