[Crimson Ghost]

My condolences as well. I liked Trillby.

If I may, I would like to share a poem that is often recited at funerals for my lodge brothers. But I feel the sentiment can be applied to anyone.
If it is not appropriate, I request that a moderator delete it.

In My Father's Mansion

It is not cold beneath the grasses,

Nor close-walled within the tomb;

Rather, in my Father's mansion,

Living, in another room.

Nearer than the one who loves me,

Like yon child with cheeks abloom,

Out of sight, at desk or schoolbook,

Busy, in another room.

Nearer than the youth whom fortune

Beckons where the strange lands loom;

Just behind the hanging curtain,

Serving, in another room.

Shall I doubt my Father's mercy?

Shall I think of death as doom,

Or the stepping o'er the threshold

To a bigger, brighter room?

Shall I blame my Father's wisdom?

Shall I sit enswathed in gloom,

When I know my Love is happy

Waiting, in another room?

Robert Freeman