My son started waking up every night, unable to eat, and would just throw up at the sight of food, relying on IV drips.

Bradley had never come to see him.

Watching my son’s frail, sleeping form, my heart burned with pain.

Sometimes he would manage a faint smile.

“Mom, I dreamt of Toby. She touched my head with her paws and kissed my nose, telling me to eat well.”

I wiped my tears and smiled back. “I dreamt of her too. She told me to take good care of you.”

He snuggled deeper under the blanket and closed his eyes again.

I gently told him stories, recording them for...