The other day I found this poem and thought it would be fitting:
Death is nothing at all. I have slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other,
that we are still. Call me by my old familiar name,
speak to me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed, at the little joke we enjoyed together.
Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect, without trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant, it tis the same as it ever was,
there is an unbroken continuity. What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval, somewhere very near,
just around the corner.
ALL IS WELL.
- Canon Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)
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