Dad comes and checks on me as I lay in my childhood bed. He kisses my forehead and listens to my childhood evening prayer: "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."
Billy, my brother, is often morphed with my son Paul in my dreams. He is always young - maybe six - and he's in trouble. I'm trying to help him but I can't.
Missy has been alive all along, her death a prank. I am torn between fury and relief.
In my waking life, I'm reading "The Unwinding of the Miracle" by Julie Yip-Williams, a cancer memoir. The author is dead now, but I just listened to a podcast featuring her husband, sister and best friend. They all believe she has sent them signs from the other world.
But I don't see any signs. I just long for them.