“No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence.”
We miss you so much, but I treasure every memory we have - I'll never forget you doing a dramatic reading of Bored Of The Rings, or laughing hysterically with Zen as we played with helium balloons.