You wake with a start. Your heart is racing. You reach across the bed to touch your wife. “Are you okay, honey?” She’s not there, of course.
You realize it was a dream. She was in danger. You try to remember the details, but the details are lost in the darkness. You look at the digital clock on the bedside table — 3:11 a.m.
That was her birthday — March the 11th. Coincidence? You realize today’s date — November the 21st. She died eleven months ago today.
Was this a rehearsal for the main event — December 21st? Will the bedroom be filled with the ghosts of dead loved ones for the occasion? The four men — your father, two brothers and your son — all dressed in black. Your son was a bit of a card — perhaps he will wear a black top hat so he can doff it to you. Your mother will wear that beautiful black dress she wore at the funeral of her first-born son, killed in a car crash at the age of twenty-four.
And when the digital clock clicks to 3:11 and you wake with a start and reach out and touch the empty pillow, someone will be singing ‘Hallelujah’ — Leonard Cohen of course.
It will be a beautiful event. Don’t miss it.