Herinneren is een vorm van ontmoeten…

Lieve Estella,
zoals je lachte
zoals je vroeg hoe 't ging
zoals je keek naar mijn haar
zoals je het knipte
zoals je dan vertelde over Blaze
zoals je Igor's en jouw liefde voor haar en elkaar beschreef
zoals je was en altijd blijft
we hoeven alleen maar de bloemen te ruiken
die je altijd in The Building plaatste
en naar de sterren te kijken
om ons te herinneren hoe je bent
zoals je ook nu naar ons lacht

in liefde, Marijke Foudraine-Kranenburg

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly 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 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, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

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 round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!