She was 62 years old woman, a palliative care patient with advanced breast cancer. She knew with clarity that this place—our ward—would be her last place on earth. Her days were numbered, but her spirit remained vibrant. She chose to live each remaining day with fullness, grace, and joy.
Every day, as her nurse, I had the privilege of being part of her world. Our encounters were never the same. Sometimes we laughed heartily, other times we shared quiet tears. There were moments of lightness, moments of depth, and always, moments of truth. In all of it, she remained present—open, grateful, and astonishingly strong.
One day, she said something that stayed with me forever:
“Angels don’t always have wings—that’s why we don’t always recognize them.”
She looked at me and smiled warmly.
“You are my angel without wings,” she said.
That moment humbled me deeply.
She had taken a photo of the two of us and kept it by her bedside. It became a symbol of connection, of trust, and of shared humanity.
When her time came, she faced death with courage and serenity. There was a gentle smile on her face, while her family and friends wept. She gave us a final gift: the image of a peaceful goodbye, the kind we rarely witness.
She taught me that even in the face of dying, there is living. Even in sorrow, there can be light. And even without wings, we can still be someone’s angel.
Sr. Ranjita SJB
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