My Uncle Joe had just died. He was only 40, and I was devastated by the news. One night while I slept, I dreamed that I was in the cemetery with my mother and my sister. My grandmother’s grave was open. My sister walked over to the grave and looked in. As she was walking back to where I stood with my mom, I started toward the grave. My sister told me not to go. “You don’t want to look,” she said. I kept walking. When I looked into the grave, my grandmother was sitting on some kind of cot. She was young and beautiful. She looked up at me and said, “Don’t you worry about your Uncle Joe. He’s with us now, and he’s happy.”
