The Messenger of Love



vicky4When I looked down at the waves breaking on the shore, just moments before Rena came into my life, I asked this; “Please send me someone to love.”

I was asking this of my angel. The name ANGEL comes from the word MESSENGER.

Above is a letter Victoria Arnold sent me. When we found each other after twenty-one years, she bid me to come to Los Angeles and look at something with her. That something turned out to be a black box belonging to her father who was stricken with alztymers. Bill’s sister had become ward of her father’s estate. Inside this box were papers concerning Bill’s death. There were pamphlets on suicide, and how parents of a teenager who committed suicide, could cope. Victoria demanded I tell her what these pamphlets meant. She was fifteen when her dear brother died. I remember how this beautiful young girl looked at me when I left her home in San Mateo. Her eyes asked;

“When will I see you again?”

After Victoria took me into downtown LA and showed me her famous boyfriends statues, she took me to this hidden lake. We stopped in front of this shingled house. Bill’s sister then told me of her dream. She told me this was our dream house. She bought this house for us, in the hope that one day we would meet and marry. Vicky told me she fell in love with me when she was thirteen. She had told Bill she was going to have he boyfriend over for dinner. I suggested we decorate the house, some, get rid of military Spartan look. There were beautiful things down in the basement. We were soon digging in the Colonel’s war booty. I found some beautiful vases from France, and went ant picked flowers to put in it.

After we had finished looking in the black box, Vicky held it up to me, and asked;

“What do you see in this box?”
“I see nothing in this box. It’s empty!”
“Wrong!” Vicky exclaimed. “Your death is in the box. You are killing yourself with alcohol. Please don’t do those thing. I need you to remain alive because I can not live with these truths by myself!”

I am so afraid I have driven Rena Victoria from my life with my revelations, my posts, my need to tell the truth – that I can hardly accept! It is too devastating to the core of my being to know your mother is responsible for the death of your best friend and then torture of your sister – who may have killed herself. Christine would accuse me of keeping Bill from her. She had a secret crush on him since he came to live with us after his father locked him out of his house.

Christine never suspected the reason Rosemary went after her was because she was her rival for Bill’s affections. It was easier to blame me, the Family Scapegoat, then to behold the truth! The Family scapegoat is usually the Family Messenger who seeks the truth, and thus his/her credibility must be destroyed. My mother tried to destroy me. So did my father, because I accused them of taking our love and abusing it!

Vicky and I concluded it was her father who drove Bill to take his own life. Even then, Vicky continued to take care of her father, and even love him. After Vicky went up to see her nephew for the fist time, they day she returned, Brian Arnold, died.

It was then it started. Vicki was telling me she was feeling suicidal. She told me she put her father’s gun under her pillow so she could fall asleep. She told me she had trouble sleeping most of her life because she could hear Bill being beaten – even with a pillow over her head. She felt extremely unsafe. She wondered when she would be beaten. Vicki had been in therapy and was diagnosed with PTSD. Then, her mother died. She was the only survivor.

“The idea that I could reach for that gun and blow my brains out if it got unbearable, comforted me.”

What Victoria was experiencing was ABANDONMENT. I have written another letter to Rena explaining that all abuse adds up to one word. I can read between the lines. I know what is going on with her. All those lonely survivor skills that abused children INVENT…..stop working when we get old! Our bonds, our calls to our angels, grows weak. This is because THE MESSAGE has not arrived.

I wept when I heard from Rena because I feel I am her Guardian Angel. I fear for her, because she is so alone in the world. Her husband is in poor health. I told her I am her safety net if she needs one.

Because Victoria asked, I got into a recovery program, and own twenty-seven years of sobriety. I am so angry my selfish daughter, and her selfish people, for not just waging war against me, but all the Messenger of Sobriety! If they don’t want it – fine! But to go out of their way to destroy me so they can deliver drinking messages to a six-year-old boy – is an outrageous crime!

“you must have a shiny survival mechanism within you. I do too. I respond to it in you, in spite of my T.B. sheets beckoning me in the wind.”

My daughter abandoned me in order to promote a raging alcoholic, and alcohol ingestion. Obviously she must believe it is a big lie, and cunning myth, that people suffer from the disease of alcoholism – and many people die. A huge aspect of this disease is DENIAL. For this reason, I conclude my daughter is an alcoholic.

I blame Bill Cornwell and Linda Comstock, two scum-bags who claim they love my daughter, and it was her angel that gave them someone to love. These two are devils!

Jon Presco

Copyright 2014


The story as told in the song takes place in a room where a young girl lies dying of tuberculosis and is visited by the storyteller. The overwhelming pain and guilt he feels leads to a desperate feeling of wanting to escape from the closed-in room smelling of death and disease.

An angel (from the Greek ἄγγελος – ángelos[1]) is a supernatural being or spirit, often depicted in humanoid form with feathered wings on their backs and halos around their heads, found in various religions and mythologies.
The theological study of angels is known as “angelology”. In Zoroastrianism and Abrahamic religions they are often depicted as benevolent celestial beings who act as intermediaries between Heaven and Earth, or as guardian spirits or a guiding influence.[2]
The term “angel” has also been expanded to various notions of spirits found in many other religious traditions. Other roles of angels include protecting and guiding human beings, and carrying out God’s tasks.[3]
In art, angels are often depicted with bird-like wings on their back, a halo, robes and various forms of glowing light.[4]

The word angel in English is a fusion of the Old English/Germanic word engel (with a hard g) and the Old French angele. Both derive from the Latin angelus which in turn is the romanization of the ancient Greek ἄγγελος (ángelos[5]), “messenger”, “envoy”,[6] which is related to the Greek verb ἀγγέλλω (angéllō), meaning “bear a message, announce, bring news of” etc.[7] The earliest form of the word is the Mycenaean a-ke-ro attested in Linear B syllabic script.[8][9]
The ángelos is the default Septuagint’s rendition of the Biblical Hebrew term mal’akh denoting simply “messenger” without specifying its nature. In the Latin Vulgate however the meaning becomes bifurcated: when mal’akh or ángelos is supposed to denote a human messenger, words like nuntius or legatus are applied. If the word refers to some supernatural being – the word angelus appears. Such differentiation has been taken over by later vernacular translations of the Bible, early Christian and Jewish exegetes and eventually modern scholars.[10]

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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