Death is nothing at all. It doesn’t count. I have only slipped in the washroom. Nothing has happened. Everything has remained exactly same as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, 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 the tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laugh at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household work that is always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of the shadow upon it. Life means all that ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. 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.