I am sharing something I ran across. I don't know who wrote it, but it reflects my feelings of loss of a loved one. I continue to talk to my parents sometimes as if they are in the same room as I talk to Daniel when walking to my sister's house across the field where I see him stooping to talk to his daughter. Daniel was my first nephew. I adored him as a child, attended his baptism, his first wedding, and had the opportunity to spend his last Easter with him as I saw what a wonderful father he had become. He continues to live in all of us.
All is well.
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 we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were together, 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. Where 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.