Dear Angelica,

I wish you the best and shall keep you and your family in my prayers.  Words can never bring solace to you for all the pain and the tragedy through which you are now traveling.  I can only ask that should you need anything, please know that we are all here for you.  Though we've never met face to face, this does not mean that our prayers cannot envelop you in your time of heartache and angst.

I hope this poem can bring you some relief as it has to me in times when I've lost those close to me.

You are in our thoughts and prayers.

With warmest regards and deepest sympathy,
Jarrod A. Clabaugh,
Contributing Editor, Source of Title

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ;  why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ;  Death, thou shalt die.