I'm reminded today (again) that we can never know what it is like to live in another's skin. We try hard with poetry at times to make that deeper connection with others, yet still, still we cannot know. We that remain can only speculate.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;
pray,love, remember: and there is pansies,
that's for thoughts.
Our world is smaller, and poorer, today.
In his words, here.