My husband always has a book of poetry in the bathroom. He would probably not like that I mention that, but he doesn't read my blog, so it's safe.
A poem (in the book Good Poems for Hard Times, edited by Garrison Keillor) by Ted Berrigan closes with, "Let none regret my end who called me friend."
It implies so much. The poet (if he's writing from his own point of view) had friends. He chose to comfort them by making clear he would be at peace when he passed. Though that would be hard to predict with total accuracy, the chances increase because he expects to be at peace.
Having had successful cancer surgery this year, I have no thoughts of my own demise. A phrase has not felt so perfect to me since one from Robert Louis Stevenson's The Swing.
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—
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