But the boy insisted, his sincerity impossible to ignore. “He told me to find you,” the child whispered. “He said to tell you he is happy and still likes to play.”

With a trembling voice, the father asked the child to show him where. They walked a short distance to a garden area near the cemetery, where flowers grew bright despite the somber surroundings. There, a small ball rested beneath a tree—as if left mid-play. The father felt tears fill his eyes, not from fear, but from a sense of peace washing over him. The world felt still, and in that moment, he felt closer to his son than he had in months.