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Eddie R. LeFebre January 21, 1996 You have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, you are you, whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Calling you by the old familar name. Speak of you in the easy way which we've always used. Putting no difference into our 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 you, pray for you. Letting your 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 death but a negligible accident? Why should you be out of mind because you're out of sight? Waiting for us, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
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