There comes a time in your life when you realise that somethings are much more important than others. When you get to the point where you hear about family of friends who are of similar ages to you who pass away unexpectedly. There’s no rhyme or reason for it and it’s not nice, but it sure makes you think.
Anyway – I hope this (which was read out at my Granny’s funeral in 2002) may be of comfort.
All is Well, by Henry Scott Holland
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to 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 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 effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
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.