It has been a very tough week here at the Pfaffl House, as we have suffered the loss of three people we loved. One passing, in particular, has absolutely broken my heart and I have hardly been able to think about anything else. This past Saturday, the world lost Rick Crittenden, a beloved father, husband, neighbor and friend. I have spent the last few days trying to write a tribute to this amazing man, but none of the words seemed quite right. Until I come up with something worthy of this amazing man, I'd like to direct you to his son, Michael's ,blog. Michael, who is like a brother to me, wrote the sweetest, most heartwrenching post about his dad that has been forwarded by hundreds of people throughout the week. And since all of my crying and thinking and worrying this week has completely exhausted me (therefore giving me writer's block :o), I will leave you with the words that have given me the most comfort during this confusing time. This poem was printed on the program from Rick's funeral.
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
I am I, and you are you. Whatever we 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
Laugh as we have always laughed at the little jokes we
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.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as
it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very
near, just around the corner.
All is well.
-Henry Scott Holland