My mother died last year. I still talk to her every now and then. She comes to visit in my dreams. The first time she came it was shortly after her death. She was dressed in white and looked like a young girl, young Pat. She was much healthier than I last saw her. I knew who she was. She told me she is getting better and that she would visit me from time-to-time. I asked her if she had been to see my father. She said no and that he wasn’t open to such things.
In my latest visit from my mom, all of the family was present when she arrived. She was so happy to be with her family. I was the only person who was able to communicate with her. I tried to get others to see her. They couldn’t see, so she left.