One Hundred Little Funerals: The Cyclical Rebirth and Death of My Father

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Unsplash

mother told me that our house was haunted when I was a baby, and that she once encountered the pale translucent figure of Abraham Lincoln while fetching me a bottle one night. She had read that upon encountering a ghost, one is supposed to mentally recite the words, go away and never come back. So recite she did, and the story goes that the figure disappeared and…