But it was his voice for a certainty."Melanie..." he said, as clearly as if he were standing right in front of me.You would probably think this would ...hock me, but actually it was a common occurrence. I quite often heard him talk to me since he had died. That didn't mean I thought he was a ghost, communicating from the grave. It was more like a memory of him, speaking to me from inside my own mind. I had been very close with my father, and enjoyed that I could still talk with him in my own. It's difficult warming the place even when bundled up. Almost like the cold is penetrating you, getting inside you and your every vein is almost frozen.I had gone to bed earlier than my husband craving the enveloping blankets that would hold me warmly. Even though I was cold I still wore silk to bed letting it rub up against my goosepimpled skin hoping the sensation would be distracting. It turned out to be, but not at that moment.I remember being groggy and suddenly waking up feeling hot skin. More

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