"Beckon the ferryman, the reaper of souls from oceans so deep to waters so cold. Her soul has laid rest, to the edge she floats. We weep and we burn, adorning sleeping eyes gold. Alas, we wait and tearful we watch for ghosts line the shores as the ferryman falls."
Rest in peace, my friend, may you be with your son in heaven as we lie in wait for our own peace to follow. We will meet again.