His essence is gone. It will live in our hearts and minds and souls forever. ‘People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of ...ura of life which bears no relation to true immortality, but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling abroad.’ ~Marcel Proust I once wrote something about a friend from high school who had died. I wrote, ‘The easy part is remembering, the hard part is forgetting. She drank deeply from the jug that had been left on the floor. The ruby liquidwas putrid, but better than nothing after their long journey. Then she lookedat the wine and wondered. Somewhere deep in her memory something was tryingto tell her that all was not right. She turned quickly as the key grated inthe ancient lock and the door slowly creaked open. "VALDA!" Astra spat in disgust. "I should have detected your foul stenchwhen I entered this hell hole." "Greetings Huscarle," glared the crone.. More

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