It's like a child waving towards passing cars, a brief duration of a view, a nephew I felt that was left astray, not of family, but of time and distance, exceedingly transparent, but when I look at your picture, I see life thereafter, though your presence may not be here at the moment, I know, that your spirit is hovering over us, I'm confessing my pain to you, because I wish, that I was one of those passing cars you waved at, from an uncle who feels a great loss, I love you, and I always will, nevertheless, would I feel any different, you will be missed, in no way of a somber mood will I suffer, because your happiness will make me bloom, Love, Uncle Harry.