My late father has been very much with me for the last day or two. Yesterday, I fixed a moderately vexing problem with just patience and electrical tape, and I could picture him looking down at me in approval as I sat on the floor, tracing the trouble to its source.
Later, I took a break from work just in time to catch some of Jeopardy, including a category all about Peter and the Wolf, which he used to play for us with enthusiastic gestures and exaggerated expressions.
I don’t believe, not even a little bit, in life after death. And that’s okay. But it’s still comforting to feel his presence, however illusory.
We all die. But none of us vanish, because you carry the people you love with you — in your heart, in your head, in your memories.