The day before he died, my grandpa gave me a gift and asked me to pray for his soul because he was on the way to our Father’s house. We talked a lot that evening. Very lucid, he repeated once more: ‘My dear, pray for my soul.’ I went home, and at four in the morning we received the news that he had died. I remembered then what he had asked me. Before she died, eleven months later, my grandma asked me the same thing. I was 18 years old. Keeping my promise, I pray for them and for all my loved ones. Through them I saw that life is a passage. God permits us to live, but death is the passage from a life that ends to one that goes on for eternity. Today I am 87 years old, and I keep praying every day for their souls. I know they also pray to our Father for me and are waiting for me.