“Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life.”
- The Book of Common Prayer
I know, I know... Because you aren't willing that any perish, we're pretty much stuck here until you find and rescue the last of your wandering sheep. And yes, I am of course truly grateful that you didn't pull the plug on me before I was dragged into the fold... And I'll ask once again, please, drag the rest of my stubborn loved ones in, won't you?
"For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."
- 2 Corinthians 5:1
Another choice, creative soul
Has taken leave of us.
He's folded up his tent,
and left this shore.
Born between two brothers—
That middle child curse—
A finer dwelling holds him now
Than aught we've seen before.
I have a hunch his new abode's
An inspiration source;
His departure
Won't slow him in any way.
In my spirit's vision
There's a scene in which I hear
Our Grandma call him
By his sobriquet.
Though our world's poorer for his lack,
To this life, there's no coming back...
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Grand residences drafted
On angelic drawing boards,
Superlative imaginings
And dreams will soon beget.
Does heaven hold such implements
Within its vast expanses?
Tools to employ in deft design
Of many chambered manses?
Yes!
Just as—first in Santa Cruz,
And later on in JAX—
The sounds of carpenters
Will fill the air.
As—fashioned fair and permanent
Of brilliant dreams and jewels—
Plans will unfold, and walls will rise,
Unmarred by mortal tools.
Fine residences, formed by hand,
And free of earthly flaw
Will spring up in that distant land
As we look on in awe.
For this life's not the end of all
The tasks God's planned for us.
Our joy in serving Him
Has just begun.
All those who know the King,
Upon their last breath, will have found
Their work here was naught
But a brief, dry run.
For much more of 
