When ghosts are your friends

You "consider the ghosts of your loved ones and friends to be understanding" of you. "...[T]hey know me thoroughly in a way not possible to our loved ones and friends still inhabiting mortal bodies... And oftentimes I have been prevented from doing something wrong ... because I have loved ones I do not want to hurt...."

This seems, Sam, to be wrapped up in the mantle of something in an earlier world we called "conscience." That's a very old-fashioned word the use of which has unfortunately fallen into a rusty disuse.

There are ghosts, though. And angels. I believe that.

Once when my sister and I were home alone for just a little while so that Mama could dash out to the store for something, we were left to bathe and get ready for supper later.

We heard the back door open. We heard footsteps on the porch. We heard footsteps in the kitchen. We heard footsteps in the hallway. The steps went silent at the bathroom door.

Neither my sister nor I dared breathe, we were so frightened.

Finally, the footsteps continued to the dining room, on into the living room, and, finally, out the front door.

Nobody locked doors in those days. That day we wished we had.

Though we had no doors locked, there was a guardian angel watching over us.

To this day, many years later, my flesh crawls at the memory of those footsteps and what evil thing (and I do believe it was an evil thing) may have propelled them along through our house.

We will rejoin our loved ones gone before us, and as you hoped, "all tears will be wiped away."

And my sister and I will know that day's guardian angel.