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TheOneRing.net has reported that Michael Baker, great-grandson of J.R.R. Tolkien and brother to Royd Tolkien, has passed into the West at the age of 40. We send our condolences to his family, friends and colleagues.

Story: http://www.theonering.net/torwp/2015/01 ... en-family/

EDIT: I originally listed the wrong Michael Tolkien by mistake. Apologies for the error.

Sad news.

My dad died two weeks ago today of pneumonia, he had dementia as well, and he was just a couple of years older (74). His funeral is on Tuesday and I need to go write my speech some time this weekend - keep putting it off though and finding other stuff to do.

Rich H wrote:Sad news.

My dad died two weeks ago today of pneumonia, he had dementia as well, and he was just a couple of years older (74). His funeral is on Tuesday and I need to go write my speech some time this weekend - keep putting it off though and finding other stuff to do.

Sad news, indeed.

My condolences, Rich. Drop me an email if you need to chat about anything.

I pray peace upon you Rich. Sorry to hear about your dad. The same to the Tolkien family. What a legacy.

Very sorry for your loss Rich. Losing a parent is a terrible blow and leaves a void in our lives.

You have a lot of friends, however, and we're here for you. Drop me a line if you want to chat.

Rich, I'm really sorry to hear about the loss of your father.

This is a poem my Dad had me learn in grade school. I didn't get it at the time. But now I believe it is my favorite poem by Tolkien. Somehow I feel like it captures that feeling of desiring the times in the past, or to see someone who is no longer there.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door

Sad news all the way round.

BB great callout on the poem: it makes a lot more sense to me at 40 than it did at 15.

Very bad news, altogether. Sorry for all loses, specially for you, Rich.

Sorry for your loss Rich.

My sympathies are with both of you who have experienced that loss. Take your time Rich.