My mother has died.
Most near, most dear, most loved... She is a procession no-one can follow after But be like a little dog following a brass band.(from George Barker's Sonnet to my Mother)
Our life is love and peace and tenderness; and bearing one with another, and forgiving one another, and not laying accusations one against another; but praying one for another, and helping one another up with a tender hand.
Isaac Penington, 1667