The hospice nurse sat with Ann’s husband, Ben. Ann was resting quietly as the increased dosage of IV pain medication gradually reached its therapeutic level. Ben turned his head and slowly turned, looking out the room’s only window. As he glanced up, a small flicker of light caught his breath. It was a shooting star. A tear fell from the corner of his eye and he turned to Ann. The nurse sensed that something significant to Ann and Ben was unfolding. Shuffling to Ann’s bedside, he took her small fragile hand in his. These hands had rocked cradles, burped babies, and groomed the horses she loved to ride. Gently holding her hand, he turned to the nurse. “She would ride like the wind was chasing her.” Looking back to Ann his voice broke; choking back tears “Ann, Ann I saw Jessie…Jessie is calling.” Ben turned “Jessie was our daughter. She died having a baby that was too big. When she died it was a pitch-black night. Cold, so cold, the baby died too, a little boy, named him Abe, Jr. after Jessie’s husband. I took Ann outside so she could cry to God above and there in this dark sky we saw two falling stars…together…just falling. We knew it had to be Jessie and Abe…two angels to light up the night.” Ben turned back as a deep sigh escaped from Ann’s lips. A soft smile remained as she joined Jessie and Abe.