I was sitting on the couch next to one of the girls. The phone rang. It was the missionaries asking for Ben. They wanted to set up splits with him. “He’s not here,” I replied.
The Bishop got on the line. He told me, “He has been on my mind.” (Emotional overlay of concern and almost disapproval because he wasn’t doing his duty.)
Confused I replied, “Bishop, Ben’s not here . . . and he’s not going on a mission.”
“Ben’s . . . dead.” and then I woke up.
So weird. I can’t tell you the last time I dreamed about Ben. Probably not since I was pregnant with him. His 19th birthday is about a month and a half away. Would we be getting him ready? Would he have chosen to serve? I certainly hope so. I expected he would. I hope you are well, my son.