Sense and sensibility

During the first months after my son had died, I struggled to understand what was reality and what was just a bad dream. My senses told me it was all real. I knew for sure that I had seen him dead, I had been to the funeral, he had been cremated and I had carried the urn with his ashes to his grave and lowered it deep down into the ground. He was dead and gone, I realized that. HOWEVER….a part of me wondered. A voice in my head whispered no, no, no, it can’t be, it’s impossible. I desperately wanted to believe it. Sense and sensibility fought at an invisible battlefield inside my head and threatened to drive me crazy. No wonder I had this dream. It is full of hope.

To my surprise, I find myself in company with my oldest son, who I thought was dead. I am happy, but at the same time I know something is not right. He looks unwell and sick, with a pale face and a shabby appearance.  I have to ask him: Didn’t you just die, Tom? And he answers: No, I’m not dead. Something strange has happened to me, and I don’t know what it is. I can tell something is wrong, but I’m not dead. He says this in a rather sad voice, and he is not looking at me.



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