Good morning Jody
The usual topics with added emphasis on death merely being a transistion, that your loved one is in a happier, fuller life - not irretrievably lost to loved ones, just a brief separation.
Henry Scott Holland, (1847-1918), wrote several reassuring poems about death:
A POEM ON DYING
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky
come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her load of
living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment when someone at my side says
"There, she is gone!"
there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout,
"Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
and this one which I read at my father's funeral:
DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL
Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away to the next room.
I am I and you are you.
Whatever we were to each other,
That, we still are.
Call me by my old familiar name.
Speak to me in the easy way
which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me. Pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word
that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effect.
Without the trace of a shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same that it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you.
For an interval.
Somewhere. Very near.
Just around the corner.
All is well.