And two months after the cancer finally ate through the last tissues that separated him from death, I get a message from his e-mail address, urging me to click on a link I know I shouldn’t, though I’m tempted, I really am, to see where it takes me, to see if ghosts haunt the Internet the way we kind of wish they haunted our lives — that is, kindly, reassuringly. Reassuringly because if they exist after death, maybe, just maybe, we will, too. But I know better and don’t click on anything. After I delete it, though, I search for and read the last real message he sent: dear jim, i’m back home now. thank you for letting me visit. please tell everyone else I was glad to meet them — and let me know if I can do anything in the future.