My name is Stella Vogel, otherwise known as Angel Baby, a nickname bestowed upon me by my beloved father. For the first three years of my life, my dad fiercely battled prostate cancer. He passed away on July 5, 2010, when I was three years old. My dad was often sick, and my earliest memories were of us snuggling in his hospital bed. I was too young to fully comprehend the severity of the situation, and my memories are minimal.

 

During his last year, my dad spent considerable time in a hospice facility, Evergreen Hospice in Kirkland, Washington. I recall the eerie quiet of the hospice and how every adult around me seemed to be upset, which made me upset. Watching my father and my best friend slowly slip away was cruel and practically impossible to understand as a three-year-old.

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Hospice facilities are not a comforting place for small children. With that in mind, Evergreen Hospice kept a small basket of brand new stuffed animals in their entry to offer to the young children who visited their loved ones. I vividly recall the moment the hospice staff asked if I would like to choose a stuffy. The basket of options faded away, and all I saw was a small white bear with shimmering wings and a halo, my Angel Bear. I immediately grasped onto it, as if it were a lifeline and a friend all in one. It was bright and it was cheery, serving as a source of happiness during this sad, dark period of hospice visits. To this day, I remember the invincible feeling of having my Angel Bear tucked under my small arm during my dad’s final days. When others were crying and I felt uncomfortable, I would hold it tighter, feeling the magical support of my Angel Bear.

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I am now seventeen years old, and I still treasure my Angel Bear. At times, when an unexpected wave of grief hits me, I hold my Angel Bear the same way I did when I was three. My mission for Angel Bear Nonprofit is to purchase and distribute new stuffed animals in hopes of spreading the magic of Angel Bear to hospices and hospital settings. The small gesture of a stuffed animal can mean the world to a grief-stricken child, just when they need it the most.