Death is nothing at all.

It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.

All is well.

The Four Seasons

(from Tully)

It was always a hot summer

In the days we used to play

I could say it doesn’t matter

But I’d give me all away.

Now an autumn has passed and another one, too,

There will be many springs now,

All without you.

Our cold winters won’t see you again

And neither will I

Till my seasons will end.

What hurts selfish me is not that you’ve gone,

But that I am still here,

And I’m all alone.

Spring, winter, and fall run into each other

I hope where you are it is one endless summer.