Rest in peace.
Nostalgia sets in as I sort through a few belongings of my grandparents since passed. They'd spent decades in this place. It's as thought they're here... but they aren't. It is a surreal place. It is a lonely place. Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover That noble heart for ever, ever more... [Emily Jane Brontë]