When he takes one of my own, I feel a wild desire deep down, absurd and tribal, for vendetta against the Grim Reaper. Strangely, not for you, Peter. No doubt because, by dint of your relentless plunging into unknown worlds and your familiarity with the invisible, you have only conceded the bare minimum to this wretch. At best, you left it to manage the few most trivial transmutations. You did not leave him the slightest collateral benefit!
Like Prospero, you now bury your magic staff a few fathoms in the earth, but the ferments you so ardently cultivated will go on thriving in all of us.
Your strength will remain active as long as, in one way or another, we keep these doors and paths open, subtly guided towards the rarer action, that of virtue stronger than vengeance, by your extraordinary lightness of soul.
Perhaps that is why I can watch the new moon fade the sky over the poplars without grieving for you tonight.
Thank you, Peter!
Youtube link to memorial service: