" Clear the shelf now
of vials and cups, and prescriptions; open the windows; step no more
carefully; there is no one now to be cared for--no one to be
nursed--no one to be awakened.
Ah! why does this bring a secret pang with it when we know that they
are where none shall any more say, "I am sick!" Could only one
flutter of their immortal garments be visible in such moments; could
their face, glorious with the light of heaven, once smile on the
deserted room, it might be better. One needs to lose friends to
understand one's self truly. The death of a friend teaches things
within that we never knew before. We may have expected it, prepared
for it, it may have been hourly expected for weeks; yet when it
comes, it falls on us suddenly, and reveals in us emotions we could
not dream. The opening of those heavenly gate for them startles and
flutters our souls with strange mysterious thrills, unfelt before.
The glimpse of glories, the sweep of voices, all startle and dazzle
us, and the soul for many a day aches and longs with untold
longings.
We divide among ourselves the possessions of our lost ones. Each
well-known thing comes to us with an almost supernatural power.
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