There are memories here.

If I close my eyes and then open them again, I can see you.

Every time we pass a church, I always have to stop - just to say hello.

So hello, Wolfwood.

How have you been?

Would you be surprised that I still remember you? You shouldn't be.

So many people have passed through my life, brief sparks that are blindingly bright for one moment in time, then fading into darkness. I have known an ocean of humanity, restless and always moving, constantly pushing forward towards the unknown.

I remember them all.

Knives would laugh at my sentimentalism, I think. Twelve years, and he still doesn't quite understand my love for humanity.

He doesn't see how wonderful all of you are.

I'll teach him, though. Someday, I'll show him, and he'll understand.

Then, maybe ... maybe I won't have to visit you so often.

Are you happy in heaven?

I remember you trying to tell me about it once. A place of serenity and beauty; the "Eden" that was lost to humanity when it succumbed to the temptation of the serpent's apple and fell from grace. You spoke with all the cynicism of an embittered old man, but your eyes -

Your eyes, Wolfwood, said "I believe."

I wonder if you met Rem there. Maybe you two sit together in heaven and watch us.

Ask her to sing for you, Wolfwood. She has a beautiful voice.

Do you know I come back every year, on that day? And that girl - that girl you liked - she comes, too. We meet in the church, and we come to sit and try and get closer to you.

But though we stretch, you remain just a little bit out of reach.

Did God make you an angel? Is that why you never seem to hear us?

Knives thinks we're being ridiculous. My brother has always been someone who looks unswervingly to the future. He has little patience for those who linger in the past.

I've always been bad at letting things - or people - go. And the girl understands; she's moved on - do you know that she's arried, now? - but she still comes back to remember you.

One year, she brought her eldest daughter, small and wide-eyed and dark-haired.

And you know, the insurance girl's husband is as blonde as she is.

And when I asked the girl her name, she looked at me with smoke-blue eyes and said "Nicole."

Her mother never told me the exact truth of the matter, and I've never asked.

It's not my business, what happened between the two of you on that night.

But if she is your daughter, Wolfwood, then I know you'll look after her. You're the one who loved kids so much; I used to think the major tragedy of your life was that you died before you could have any of your own.

Now, I wonder.

Maybe the real tragedy is that you never lived to hear her call you "Daddy."

Memories. If I squint my eyes and look at the dust motes that dance in the beam of sunlight falling across the altar, I can see you. If I tilt my head, I can see the shadow thrown by your cross.

Bokushi-san.

Were you really a priest, like you said? If you were, I would have liked to have visited your church. I would have liked to see the children who called you "Nick-ani."

I would have liked a lot of things, Wolfwood, if you had lived. I would have liked to stand by your side if you married that insurance girl.

The other one - the dark-haired one, the one who sometimes moves and sounds so much like Rem it hurts - she thought that it would happen. Once, when we were walking together, she told me that she would have also liked to see you together.

What happened to her, Wolfwood? I haven't seen her in years. Her friend says that she's been promoted to some high office within their company, and can't work in the field any more.

I wish she hadn't. Being with her was like having Rem again, in a way.

Wishes. Sometimes, they're the most dangerous thing in the world.

Wolfwood, please answer something for me.

If I pray for all of us to meet again, someday in the future, if I pray that we can live out our lives without the shadow of the Gung-Ho Guns hanging over us, if I prayed and wished and put my entire heart and soul into it - would God grant it for me? Is there a way to have the "Eden" Knives envisioned, but only expanded to encompass all of humanity?

Please answer me, Wolfwood. You were the priest.

If a light a candle for you, would you come back?

If I kept your memory alive, as I have for this long, would you continue to live on as well?

If your face remained in my heart, along with so many others, would I be able to see you again someday?

Could we someday meet, in the paradise promised so long ago?

If I prayed, would it happen?

Tell me, Wolfwood.

Can the devil who destroyed July ever be raised beyond the wreckage left behind?

Can even "Diablo" find a place in your heaven?

This is what I wish for.

This is what I pray for.

Good-bye, Wolfwood. Knives is waiting; I have to leave. I promise I'll come back soon.

Until then, please think about my promise. I'll be waiting for that answer.

Amen.