I think I need to do a brief group explanation to the responses to the post about my husband's last days. I wasn't someone who went into this with any real convictions one way or the other about an afterlife - I believe there is one, but how much it overlaps this one was a big unknown to me. It may sound weird, but sitting there with my husband was like sharing in something wonderful - exhausting, harrowing and sad, but at the same time, with his amazing intellect and Italian need to run his mouth, he managed to pass along a lot of what he was experiencing. It sure wasn't scary. It was so interesting, he didn't really care if I was there or not. He'd greet me when I spoke to him, strikingly normally, and then fade out into whatever was taking up all his time.

Blame the morphine? Hell, he'd been on it for two years, he could, and did, conduct business on the phone on dosages like that. I learned dosages along with the other medical crap I never wanted to know, and he was perfectly lucid on the same dose at other times. Naaah. I know there's no reason anybody should trust me but I trust myself, something very cool was happening and I sat through it. I was tired and sad and stressed, and still marveling at what was happening in front of my tired, crabby, cynical eyes. Oh, and I'm not writing a book or building a website or otherwise promoting some Afterlife Crap, we take credit cards. (I'd be cynical enough to ask that question, so I'll say that right now.) I'm a practicing Catholic, which also ties to this story in a way I'll explain when I have time and energy, and I still don't have "all the answers" about the afterlife. So don't ask. :-) I feel like I had a few brief, confusing glimpses, that's all. And it was enough.