“We cannot pass our guardian angel’s bounds, resigned or sullen; he will hear our sighs.” — Saint Augustine

By definition, death is brutally simple concept. In medical terms, it is the cessation of bodily functions. Yet, as most of us know, death is much more than a singular moment in time. It is more than the second physical life ceases.

While we may never understand death, we come to accept it. For some acceptance comes sooner than later. For others, it never comes. For me, I believe the moment that I began to accept my dad’s death came when my mother uttered two simple words. Guardian and angel.

A few months after my dad’s funeral, I approached my mom in the kitchen – as she tells it – and asked, “Did I do something to make Dad leave?” Why would I think that, she responded.

“Because he wouldn’t have gone if he loved me,” was my explanation. There was no logic to the question, nor any logic in my answer. But only a fool would expect logic to come out of the mouth of a seven-year-old, particularly one who was trying to navigate their way through the multitude of emotions death produces.

As she often did, my mom fell back on her instincts. She told me Dad loved us all, and that God thought he could show even more love as my guardian angel. Admittedly her explanation was fantastical, a bit absurd, and exactly what I needed to hear at that point. For one thing, it gave him new life and it restored the father-daughter connection that death had temporarily broken.

He was still with me. He would still protect me. Even better, he would be with me always, at all times. Having been raised a Catholic, I had heard stories of saints and angels. I had marveled at the mystery of those stories and now I had my own special angel. Children dealing with death often feel alone. Having a guardian angel, having my dad with me always meant I would never be alone. The wonderment of that moment has faded over the years, which happens when we grow up. But I still believe in guardian angels and I have often called upon my guardian angel in tough times. I often plead out loud to my guardian angel during races to just get me through the damn race.

It has occurred to me on many a long run that while death may stand proudly victorious over the physical body, it can never conquer the soul. It cannot vanquish the spirit of the human heart. And it is powerless in the face of the simple love a daughter has for her father,