I do not know the answer to any of those questions, except that a great deal of that which was Rob lives on, sits in old e-mail messages, attaches itself to any Unitarian thought, to all religions of the worlds, applauds whenever someone mentions Toastmasters, or whenever someone hugs Susan, the Mensch, whenever someone marvels at the lives of 4 beautiful young trees, swaying in the wind of Illinois, whenever laughter fills a room: That’s when Rob comes alive, that’s when we hold hands.
Ave vale, fare thee well, auf Wiedersehen, my friend, and keep sending us those 1001 emails from the Facebook of Timelessness. Knowing you, Rob, you’ll make the angels laugh, you’ll make the angels cry.
Love and shalom, Rob, wherever you are, whichever mountain you are climbing now; love and shalom to Susan and her four precious young trees; love and shalom to all of Rob’s friends, here & everywhere: Love and shalom to all of you. Love and shalom. LOVE AND . . . SHALOM.