Lately, I feel like my husband ignores me. He doesn't look back when I call him. He treats me as if I'm invisible. He often cries alone in our room; trying to comfort him is too hard, he doesn't listen. Maybe that's because he too now treats me differently, like everyone else - because I see ghosts.

The ghost of my mother, who gives me those hugs and words of wisdom that I craved as a youngster. I think she feels sorry now that she knows how much I needed her and that I wasn't as strong as she always told me I was.

My father, who I swore walked across me after he had gone to wherever unhappy, divorced, alcoholic fathers go after they die.

My aunt Lois, who will always be a strong willed ghost that will interrupt my motherly dreams to tell me something important - that I'm dead - the ghost of me, who wavers between terror of the unknown and the overwhelming joy of life on this Earth, died on the 28th of May, 2005. Undoubtedly, I miss my body the most after my husband.