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's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die. I find an old photograph and see your smile. As I feel your presence anew, I am filled with warmth and my heart remembers love. I read an old card sent many years ago during a time of turmoil and confusion. The soothing words written then still caress my spirit and bring me peace. I remember who you used to be the laughter we shared and wonder what you have become. Where are you now, Where did you go, When the body is left behind and the spirit is released to fly? Perhaps you are the morning bird singing joyfully at sunrise, or the butterfly that dances so carelessly on the breeze or the rainbow of colors that brightens a stormy sky or the fingers of afternoon mist delicately reaching over the mountains or the final few rays of the setting sun lighting up the skies edging the clouds with a magical glow. I miss your being but I feel your presence, In whatever form you choose to take, however you now choose to be. Your spirit has become for me a guardian angel on high guiding, advising, and watching over me. I remember you. You are with me and I am not afraid. Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away into 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 in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Pray, 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 as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well.
Amber Kay Arseneaux student and friend of the deceased
Memorials, Fourth Quarter 2001 | Main Index, Memorials
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