Once upon a time, I wrote something on a blog about not being sure what my parents' views on mortality were. My dad read it and sent me an email, where he recounted something he had told my sister on the subject. I think this was before my mother died, maybe a bit after her initial diagnosis.

What he said amounted to: if we find ourselves in a difficult situation where we would want his advice and we can imagine what he would tell us if only he was around to say it, then he has done his job as a parent and isn't gone from our lives, not really.