They had left a baby sitter with us. I was 5, Stewart was 4 and Bryan was 2. When I asked them where they were going, Mom told me that they were going to Foddy’s funeral. I didn’t understand, but I let it go. I didn’t find out until it was explained to me later. Foddy had been ill because of a couple of heart attacks he’d had in previous years. One day, he went to lie down on the couch at his and Granny’s house. He had a third heart attack and passed away while he slept. Granny came home and found him dead. After Foddy had been buried, I began having disturbing dreams about him. I found myself standing in a field of stones with names and numbers on them.
I found myself sinking into the ground and looking at him as though I was looking through a cross section of the ground and through the casket at him. He was dressed in his best suit and lying very still.