Antigua, Guatemala, had always held a certain mystique, but today, something truly extraordinary happened.
It was the day I met my first cousin, Fernando, and his family for the very first time.
Though we had only just begun weaving together the fabric of our shared past, our connection felt instant, as if time had merely paused, waiting for us to reunite.
As evening settled around us, we gathered at the dining room table, savoring the warmth of newfound family.
Fernando stood up and stepped toward the back door, opening it to the night.
The moment he did, a powerful scent of roses flooded the room—rich, undeniable, and completely unexpected.
“I smell roses,” Esmeralda, Fernando’s wife, remarked, her voice tinged with surprise.
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Bethany, curious, asked, “What does that mean?”
Esmeralda’s expression grew thoughtful. “It often signifies the presence of God… or a loved one who has passed.” She paused. “I haven’t smelled this scent in twenty years.”
Intrigued, we followed the fragrance to the back patio.
The scent was even stronger there, hanging in the air like an invisible embrace.
We each took turns breathing it in, marveling at its intensity.
Then, with quiet certainty, Esmeralda turned to me.
“You should go out there alone,” she said gently. “I feel like Cory wants to be with you.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
I stepped forward, alone now, letting the night envelop me.
The scent swirled around me, wrapping me in something deeper than memory—a presence, a whisper of love that transcended time.
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the moment. Cory was here.
The next morning, Esmeralda pulled me aside, her eyes wide with wonder.
“I need to tell you something,” she said. “I had a dream the night before this happened.”
I listened, my heart pounding.
“In my dream, Cory walked through the back door. He came to each of us at the table, standing quietly behind us, then walked back outside onto the patio.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “It was exactly what happened. I just… I just didn’t realize it until now.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes.
The scent of roses, the lingering presence, the dream—it all fit together like a divine puzzle, a message sent across the veil.
Later, I came across an article explaining the connection between roses and angels.
It spoke of how roses hold the highest vibrational frequency of any flower—320 megahertz of electrical energy.
Angels, it said, are drawn to that energy, using the scent as a sign of their presence.
Perhaps that’s why Cory had chosen roses. Perhaps it was his way of telling me he was still near.
And I believe he was.
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