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Seeing The Dead

I recently remembered being visited by my dead father. I was in the bathroom and he appeared behind me and said boo and I cried.

I read online it’s normal. Some how this diminishes my experience. Explaining away my truth as my mind telling me something, trying to make me feel not so alone, trying to delude me.

To rationalise a communion with the dead does not change the fact I looked my father in the eyes today and felt fear and love.

My soul soured and I felt not alone. Isn’t that a good thing?


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