“Destiny rarely follows the pattern we would choose for it and the legacy of death often shapes our lives in ways we could not imagine. Death comes to everyone in their time - to some a parting, to some a release. We who are nearest go with them up the long golden stairs - up, up. A trumpet shrills - a gate clangs and we are left standing without. Then down the long stairs we retrace our steps to earth - an earth that is all numb and still - so still that one hears strange sounds - catches strange vagrant notes on one's heightened senses.

But small hands are tugging and voices are insistent.
"Will he ever come back from that other place?"
"Oh no, he doesn't want to come back!"
"Does he like it there?"
"Oh yes, he loves it."
"Well then, that's good." And happy laughter rings through the tall green pines and along the rocks and sandy beaches by the sea. No one grudges him his place in the sun.”