Den anden dag var vi et smut inde omkring enken til min elskedes ven, som blev
skudt paa Jamaica i October. Han efterlod to drenge paa 3 og 6. Da min elskede gik ind med en lille gave til drengene kiggede den lille paa ham og sagde "God knows you're here" (Gud ved du er her!) Moderen blev helt paf. Det er ikke noget hun har laert ham. Hun spurgte om min elskede ville sige noget til mindehoejtideligheden, som skal holdes i dag. Han sagde naturligvis ja, skoent jeg ved han allerhelst ville have sagt nej, for lige praecis at tale offentligt er ikke just hans yndlings. Jeg kan ikke selv deltage, men hjalp med at finde et digt som han kan laese op. Vi synes selv det er saa passende:
Not how did he die, but how did he live?
Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of his birth.
Nor what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with words of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away?
By: Anonymous
RIP soede Tony.
