Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of a shadow on it. It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. What is death but a negligible accident. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around a corner. All is well. I came across this poem whilst sorting through Robs things. It had been torn from a newspaper and carefully folded and put in his wallet. At first I thought it must date from his first brush with cancer and the possibility of death, but on closer inspection the newspaper is from Tanzania! Always the unexpected from Rob. So maybe it was Robs experience on Kilimanjaro that made him consider his own mortality. As ever his was thinking of his loved ones before himself so this is from him to all of you. Love Nevenka