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You don't notice the dead leaving when they really choose to leave you. You're not meant to. At most you feel them as a whisper or the wave of a whisper undulating down. I would compare it to a woman in the back of a lecture hall or theater whom no one notices until she slips out. Then only those near the door themselves, like Grandma Lynn, notice; to the rest it is like an unexplained breeze in a closed room.

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Kirsten LundReadninggirl30ToveEmil ChristiansenKristine LouiseRufsetufsasveinEivind  VaksvikLabbelineVegardBjørg Marit TinholtPiippokattaSigrid NygaardTheaSolJane Foss HaugenBerit RLeseberta_23Tine SundalMarenSiri Ann GabrielsenKarin BergSynnøve H HoelLeseaaseAstrid Terese Bjorland SkjeggerudKristin71Odd HebækRoger MartinsenJarmo LarsenBente NogvaIngvild STanteMamieAnniken LTorHarald KLene AndresenHeleneErlend Rødal VikhagenRisRosOgKlagingWilliam Billison