Macy

Over and over, she would ask me, how do I know she's okay?

And all I could say was, I don't know, mom, because I didn't.

I was still in shock, angry at God, questioning everything I thought I believed as a Christian.

Eventually, I made myself go back to my own house.

That first night, I was lying in bed watching TV like I always did, trying to keep the silence from swallowing me whole.

I must have fallen asleep with the TV on because what happened next felt like a dream, but it wasn't.

In this dream, or whatever it was, I was in my bed in the exact same room.

Everything looked just as it had when I drifted off, but then she was there.

My sister.

She was standing next to my bed, calm and bright and real.

I sat up, grabbed the remote, turned off the TV and switched on the lamp.

And she said, I need you to tell mom that I'm okay.

I looked at her and said, how do I know you're okay?

You're gone.

She didn't answer with words.

Instead, she lifted up her shirt and showed me her stomach.

And what I saw wasn't like anything I've ever seen in this world.

It shimmered with colors I can't even describe, colors that didn't exist in our reality.

I knew in my soul that those colors were heavenly, that she was okay, that she was somewhere beyond and she was whole.

Then I laid back down and I went back to sleep.