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My Healing

I still look up at the gray ceiling sometimes before I go to sleep at night. I lie there stiff and motionless, as if I was the one in the coffin, intently thinking. But I am not crying. I am praying. I am praying to my Aunt Meg, to watch over her orphaned children and to let her know she is still loved. I say hello to my Pepa, and tell him I miss the pizza and Carvel we shared every Sunday night years ago. I let my Nana know I love her and miss her. I talk to my Grandpa and let him know I am thankful that he is watching over me. I let them all know how lucky I am to have my own angels up in heaven.

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