There was a period of time when Judi and I experienced an extended period of loss. The loss of my father, Lyle Marquis, was followed by the illness and then loss of our very dear friend, Cathy Ciavarella. Cathy’s loss was followed by the loss of my mother, Brenda Little. Then we lost Judi’s mother, Jean Pay. Most recently, we experienced the loss of Judi’s closest friend, Nicole Pennaertz.

While we do not follow any religion, the Henry Scott Holland poem below came to have meaning for us. We often spoke of those we had lost, laughed while reciting the old stories for the umpteenth time and frequently queried, what would Cathy say? Would Nicci like this?

While there are, and will be, overwhelming feelings of grief and sorrow, I intend to keep Judi in the present. As the poem says, our old life will remain forever untouched and unchanged. I will smile when I think of her, laugh at her stories, and I will often speak her name.  I hope you do too. - Rhonda

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you.
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 my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your 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 me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort.
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 absolute 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.

 - Henry Scott Holland