23 April was the first anniversary of my Dad’s passing. I found these words among his papers – neatly copied in his own handwriting. You might have read them before, I know I have, but they brought a special feeling to me when I read them – maybe, he meant me to see this. “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,