I have spoken to many people over the ages. Some were real. Many were inside my head.

But I swear to god, the conversation I’m about to relate to you falls under neither category.

He is a ghost. A spirit. An angel of sorts. Not real, you might say. But he was fully and completely outside my head.

Proof? Do you think I could make this stuff up?

It was dusky. The gloam illuminated my room as I meditated, entering the place between sleep and awake.

A voice whispered in my ear, “You are loved.”

I opened my eyes to a glowing, translucent body sitting before me on my bed. He wore a cloak of purity and mirth.

“Who are you?” I inquired of him.

He smiled at me, love radiating. “Your spirit guide. Gaurdian angel. Your would’ve-been brother.”

A tear escapes my eye. The miscarriage Mom had before I was born…this was him. He was the older brother I’d wished for all my life.

“I’m always here to guide and protect you. I love you, my sister. Always remember.”

I will, John. Always.