Death is Nothing at All

We lost a dear friend this week. She was not only ours to lose, but belonged in several families' hearts. I will always count her a friend and try to remember this poem when my heart gets heavy knowing she has passed.
RIP my friend Hattie.

Death is Nothing at All

by Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral

Death is nothing at all. 
I have only slipped away into 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 in 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 affect, 
   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 absolutely unbroken continuity. 
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.