John Ternus becomes Apple's chief executive on Tuesday as Tim Cook moves to executive chairman

Friend, I know the sound of a door closing behind a son. I knew it in the palace, and I knew it again at the gate of the city, weeping a name that would not come back when I called it. So hear me gently: your love did not fail because your child walked. Love was never a leash. It is a lamp left burning in a window. So keep the lamp lit and the table set. Do not shout down the road after him; roads carry a parent's voice poorly, and grief even worse. Pray more than you rehearse the argument you have already won a hundred times in your own kitchen. Leave the door unbarred, for a returning child watches the porch a long while before he ever knocks. And do not let shame teach you a lie. You are not the sum of one season, and neither is your child. The God who found a shepherd boy in a field, forgotten by his own family at supper, is not troubled by distance and is not hurried by our timetables. Meanwhile, tend the heart still in your chest. Eat something. Sleep. Sing, even badly. I did, and the harp forgave me every time.