With the song Rage in the Cage, her little fists curled around the top of playpen or crib rail, she would rock side to side (the crib would move across the room) jamming along to the music.

Rage in the Cage brings back very specific memory of her little face. Bright red with anger, the utter outrage at being pushed into clothing and equipment when she just wanted to be free.

I have thought since her passing since Andie was so adventurous and fearless, that when the time came of her passing, she saw something wonderful and naturally went toward it, not realising as she left her body she could not get back.

Her sister Hilary once visiting the house (which she said always felt very oprressive after Adie's passing) had an encounter. Hilary said Andie came out of the bathroom (where she had died) grabbed her by the shoulders and screamed, "Why won't Dad talk to me? Why can't he hear me?" Hilary told me she just said "Because you aren't supposed to be here, Andie. You died. That is why Dad can't hear you." She said after that the house did not feel oppressive anymore.

I guess I should say that Hilary had seen and heard people others did not from her toddlerhood through her mid teens, when it "started going away." She still does sense things, she tells me, but I don't think with the vivdness she experienced when she was younger.

I don't know what to make of what Hilary told me about the Andie encounter. I don't want to believe it, because it would mean for all that time my child was suffering and frightened and didn't know what was happening to her. She may be still. I can't bare that.

I have been so close to following her just so I could know she was OK.