They Held My Funeral While I Was Still Breathing. Then My Seven-Year-Old Nephew Looked Into the Coffin and Said, “Mommy, Aunt Madelyn Is Looking at Me”

You’re confusing a real memory with a bad dream.”

And I smiled, because there it was, one last time, right on schedule.

“What?” he said.

“You’re still doing it,” I said.

“Even now.

Still sitting there trying to convince me that my own mind needs your permission to know what it knows.

Seven years, that worked on me.

You made me doubt every uncomfortable thing I ever felt until I was the one apologizing to you for having noticed.