Tears flow freely on earth, but it's "Shoutin' Time in Heaven"

Late this afternoon, Bill passed quietly away in the Avera ICU unit, accompanied by our dear friends Mary Schmidt and Nate Heinert (and me, of course). He fought as hard as anyone could be expected to fight, and his reward is the peace and love found only in heaven. It was Bill's wish to have a small, private cermony, so we are working on those plans now.

One of his favorite poems was by W H Auden, and I'd like to share it with you tonight because it expresses exactly how I feel at this time:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.



Tonight, Bill sails, freely and unencumbered, into the heavens he so certainly deserves. May he rest in perfect peace.

Love,
Nola