continue to be a believer in You, I will do anything and everything for You, again and again and again I’m saying it, but make her live. Thank You…Oh, those were terrible words or at least many of them were and inept and almost all of it terribly spoken though I swear to You none of it previously thought up or planned, but please hear me and do what I ask. Thank You again, dear God, thank You. There’s nothing more I can say but that there isn’t and You know that and what I mean and how I feel about her and all this, so thank You again. Yes, that’s it, finished.” You shut your eyes and cup your hands tight. You know nothing’s happening to her and you don’t look. Nothing but normal slow decomposing that comes when, well, that comes. But you don’t open your eyes because you don’t want to break the spell or whatever it is and by looking at her before it happens, this is what you mean, maybe that’ll stop it from happening. Or maybe these things take time. The miracle doesn’t have to happen or even begin to the moment you stop asking for it. So don’t move, keep your hands cupped, eyes don’t have to be shut so long, for you’re looking at the wall and not her, but keep them shut anyway to be safe. But you mean it, you meant every word of it, you will become a believer, you will. If it happened, everything for you from that moment on or from the time you got the doctors in to work on her to keep her alive and you were told to wait outside, would be for God. Of course also for your family and day-to-day things too. You wouldn’t become a zealot or an ascetic but you would go along with anything else that came from deeply believing in Him. What do you mean by that? It means — well, He knows what it means and this is what you’ll do for Him and you will never stop believing as you said, which should be enough. But nothing’s happened, you know nothing has or ever will. You mean by that “which should be enough” that He wouldn’t want you to give everything up and do nothing else but work and think of Him from then on. But you never know, about that and that nothing can ever happen. For if that’s what He wants from you for Him to bring her back, you’ll do that too. And there are recorded miracles, ones comparable to what you asked for and more, but recorded — looked into and authenticated, you mean — by the church or group the people these miracles happened to were members of, so in a way questionable because these miracles ended up benefiting that church or group. But miracles today, yesterday, since people began believing in God, or even before so they would believe in Him. So many miracles that it’d seem some of them would have to have taken place. For could there be ten thousand church-validated miracles in the last five hundred years, let’s say, and not one of them was true? And millions, billions of people believe in God, so you’d think He’d probably have to exist. It can’t be this gigantic sham for centuries on end, millenniums, and if He exists it’s also possible He can make miracles as all or almost all the religions have said and He heard you and did or will do soon what you asked. You don’t know why she should be chosen for this miracle nor why it should happen because of your pleading. But if it can happen to someone, why not her? Who could be as worthy of it, as you said? Thousands, perhaps, millions, but nobody more worthy, is what you’re saying. That without question has to be true, for how can one really compare the worthiness of children her age when you’re talking about goodness and virtues and such? She’s as good and virtuous and so on as any kid — how can she not be? — which is why you think, when you stick it in with all the other things about God’s existence and the possibility of miracles and that praying to Him for one can work, that she has a chance. A minute, two have passed since you stopped praying. Maybe you shouldn’t wait any longer to look. It might turn out to be dangerous for her. She may already have been brought back and have only two minutes for you to rush out and get the doctors to come in and work on her, before she dies again. That could be what God gives you without saying so — some kind of rule regarding miracles like this — two minutes, at the most three. Just think how you’d feel if you opened your eyes in a minute and saw her giving her last breath. No, you’re being crazy. It can’t work, this whole thing; she’s dead forever, you dumb fool. Yes it can work, it’s possible, you’ve shown how it can. You open your eyes and look at her. She looks the same. You stand up and put your ear by her mouth, you feel her head, cheeks, you put your ear by her nose and don’t breathe, just listen. You feel her wrist for a pulse, then the other one. You put your hand on the sheet where you think her heart is, your ear to that part and then several places around it where you think the heart can be if it’s not there and don’t breathe, listen. Then because you think that ear maybe doesn’t hear as well as the other one, the other one at several places on her chest. You would pull the sheet down and put your ear and hand on her chest and feel around and listen for a heartbeat but you know nothing’s happened, nothing could. No, you don’t do that because you don’t want to feel and see her there. It’ll be ugly, bloody; it’ll show gouging, probing, big holes. But you did do everything you could for her, you did try for her, you did, no body could say you didn’t, from start to finish you tried, you did, you tried. No, it’s still possible, still. It has to be. You don’t know about God and time, you don’t know about God, period, or very little, but her life can’t be taken, that’s all, she has to become alive, goddamnit, and that’s final. You cover your eyes, bend your head forward and think “Fuck the cupping-of-hands crap, this should be enough,” and say to yourself “Dear God, I’m sorry, for cursing, for whatever. Maybe You do exist, I am hoping You do and You hear me and help her and in some way make this whole thing a fantastic mistake. Maybe it takes longer than three minutes — You know what I’m talking about — longer than five, ten. Do it when You choose to, I beg You. If there’s something I left out, didn’t do, forgot to promise or didn’t know to promise or offer You, please forgive me for that too, all of which I’ve said and said. But You have to know by now that anything You want of me I’ll do and everything I already said I’d do for You and become, I will. Maybe You weren’t listening before, maybe You are now; my daughter here, make her alive, please.” You look; nothing. You pull the sheet up above her feet and feel around an ankle where the pulse would be. You feel the other ankle there, then re-cover the feet. You shut your eyes. Yes, do it, you think. You pull the sheet down and see a long incision down her chest, two short slices across the incision, dried blood around them, no bullet hole, piece of clean gauze on her stomach over her belly button. You lift the gauze and it’s just clear skin and the button underneath, so you don’t know why it was left there. You put your ear where you think her heart is and then around there, feel around your chest till you feel your heartbeat and then put your hand on the same part of her chest, then your ear on it and don’t breathe, just listen. You hear the door close with your other ear. Doctor’s in the room again, you know it without looking. Or maybe someone else, sent by that doctor to get you out of here, for he could have been called elsewhere, an emergency someplace or his workday’s over, and you say without looking up “Shh, don’t move or speak, I’m listening,” and stick a finger in your free ear and listen some more. You put your ear to her mouth, part her lips with your fingers and listen at it some more, feel both her temples at the same time this time. He takes the gauze off her, drops it in the waste can by the bed, covers her up, straightens her arms, takes your arm and pats your hand he’s holding and leads you out. Last thing you did wasn’t to kiss her. You want to. But you can do it at the funeral chapel a few minutes before the funeral or in some crematory room if she’s going to be cremated or at the funeral home in some room they keep her if the only ceremony for her is going to be at the cemetery.