So, when it came to laying her to rest, I asked that the grave not be turfed over, and I planted meadow plants and seeded it; annuals, bi-annuals and ...erennials. Each week I'd visit and sit for a while on a little folding stool and hold a conversation – imaginary, but somehow real – with my dead love. I would keep an eye on the little meadow and pull out the occasional dandelion, thistle or willowherb, then, twice a year, mow it down and rake off the 'hay'. I had to explain to the cemetery. " Said the voice from beyond the grave. The voice sounded right. Willow started, "Buffy didn't you, ah, ah, like ah" - "Die" finished the voice. There was an awkward silence and finally Willow timidly asked," Where are you calling from?" "My house" the voice responded. "I have two questions: Where is Dawn? And who picked out the dress you buried me in?" Buffy went on. "Dawn is spending the night with us, she picked the dress," replied Willow. "I know this is weird Willow but could you come. More

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