It is no secret that I believe the dead communicate with us, the living. Believe as you will, but it will not change my mind and I am not here to change yours. I can only relay to you my own personal experiences and let them speak for themselves. Six months before my mother died, I had a dream she was going to pass. I said nothing to her, but I knew, deep in my heart, I would not have her much longer on this earth. She lived long enough to attend my daughter’s wedding, for which I am ever grateful, and died shortly thereafter. I was at peace because I had been so thankful to have been given fair warning. Each hour I spent with her became special. After she passed I looked for her everywhere to no avail. One night she finally came to me in a dream, pointing at the ceiling in my office. I had a small leak in my roof I had put off having repaired, but the next day I called a roofer immediately.

I have had other similar experiences, as have many members of my family. When my son was little he would have dreams that an angel would sit on his bed and it would rise up to the heavens where he would have conversations with God. Other times a staircase would appear and he would climb up the stairs to see God waiting for him. Interesting, since I never took the poor child to church. When he started kindergarten at the local Catholic school they hauled the class over to the church for whatever reason. He was aghast when he came home explaining to me how they made him sit in a building staring at a man in a diaper and nailed to a cross. So, as you see, teaching religion was not one of my specialties. At about age nine, this child saw his grandfather, who had recently passed, standing in our hallway. He was petrified of the dark and slept as close to the wall as possible because there were ghosts in his room who wouldn’t shut up.

My daughter also has this “gift,” as some would call it. She sees things others do not and can actually have conversations with them. I used to think she played so well alone, keeping herself occupied for hours in the back yard. Little did I know she had a circle of spirited friends with whom she communicated . Years later, when we discussed this, she remembered their names and informed me a few of them even followed her off to college where she would see them running around her sorority house.

As many of you know from reading my blog, I lost my beloved pet, Apollo, this past week. He was a crazy weimaraner who stole my heart, was my constant companion and my salvation after my marriage of twenty-three years came to an end. Drive-up windows were Apollo’s favorite thing while we were out and about because to him, they meant doggie treats. The tellers at the bank knew him by name, the pharmacy where I get my prescriptions filled often accommodated him with two treats and even Starbucks has “puppicinos,” a coffee lid filled with whipped crème, which he devoured.

Two days ago, about three days after Apollo passed, I was sitting in my car waiting at a drive-up window and I felt his presence. I couldn’t help thinking of him so soon after his death and wondered if he was there with me. I held out my cell phone and snapped a picture, having no idea what I would get. It was only a hunch on my part. As I said before, believe as you will, but here’s what showed up.