A year ago I set out on the road to God. Renata de Dios was my guide. She said she was a messenger from God. There was a storm. We lost track of each other. I turned back. I went back to my house, the ghost-ridden lowly bungalow.

A year ago I set out on the road to God. Renata de Dios was my guide. She said she was a messenger from God. There was a storm. We lost track of each other. I turned back. I went back to my house, the ghost-ridden lowly bungalow.
Every Fourth of July for 30 years I was with my wife — until her death a year and a half ago, so that makes the last two without her.
I haven’t heard from my wife in 17 months — 17 moths and 10 hours at this writing to be precise. I call her name, I try to summon her spirit. I don’t know where she is.
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