Until we meet again...

 

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

 

-Mary Elizabeth Frye
 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Rest In Peace, Uncle Al.