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Then I thank Him for His Mercy.

I don't claim to have prophetic dreams (sometimes my dreams are quite a fracas, plus they generally evaporate like a water drop on a skilled) ) but I did have a dream when I was twelve years old that I have remembered now for 55 years.

Long story short, I had been very depressed, to the point of despondency and despair. Without telling anyone, I went walking in the cold rain, got soaked, came back and went to bed, got some kind of a fever (no diagnosis, my parents never knew about any of this) and then the dream:

I was falling through pitch-blackness and I was utterly indifferent. Sometimes there was light enough to see other people likewise falling through the inky blackness, but I was indifferent toward them, too. I just didn't care.
Then I saw my father, Edward, falling --- he was a good man, an agnostic at the time --- and I felt a sudden passionate anxiety and indignation: Oh no, NO! he can't fall - nonono don't let him fall, if he falls his life will be lost in the void and it will mean nothing, but his life must mean something --- but I was powerless to make a move towards him or grab him.
Then a voice came to me (not an audible voice, but as if I heard it interiorly) "Grab me, and then you can grab your father" and I saw a man's hand extended toward me, close enough for me to grab. I did not raise my eyes to see who it was, but I got a sudden surge of hope.

And that's it.

Forty-plus years later, my father was living with me here, with my husband and me and our boys. He was weak and old then, and blind, but his mind was still fine. I helped him be reconciled to God and the Church, he received the Sacraments, and he died a blessed death in 2007.

Somehow, I had this sense that I had grabbed Christ with one hand, and Ed with the other.