We are in a restaurant, a fast-food place. The table is of white marble on a single stainless leg. With Mammie, Pappie, and my brother John. Pappie has in fact been very ill but he seems to be recuperating and Mammie wants to start traveling again. She wants to go to Paris. I ask Pappie if it isn't all much too much for him. He says, "Yes. Well, we'll have to see." He looks worried and begins to cry because he is too tired and can't go along. "Well," I say, "then Mammie can go by herself and John will come to be with you for a weekend. And I would also love to come for a weekend." I look at his skin. I love him so much! He cries and begins to slouch down, slipping almost under the table. I seat myself next to him. Then we are in the car. I think, "Gee, I have been at his funeral. How is that possible? So he must just have been very ill." Then I realize that I must be dreaming. He is sitting to my right. John is driving but it is not John. And the only thing I know is how much I love Pappie. He is wearing his white cap.