My mother died 16 years ago on October 25. I was 20. Friday I attended a funeral for my very dear friend’s mother and my heart was heavy because I knew his pain. I feel compelled to remind everyone that we are eternal, spiritual beings. The body we inhabit is merely a temporary vessel that we surrender when we transition to something better. However painful losing a loved one may be, we must go forward on our journey. This journey is a little easier if we keep in mind that there is really no death, only surrendering of a temporary home. In reality the time we spend here is brief. The journey is easier if we remember that those that have transitioned would likely prefer us to continue on our path joyfully and peacefully. The pain of loss decreases when we accept what is and spend our time celebrating the treasured memories and creating new memories with those still in our physical world. And maybe, just maybe, our loved ones are as far away as we perceive.
To Cory:
This poem sits on my dresser. A friend gave it to me when I got married and was searching for ways to honor my mother at the reception.
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
By:Mary E. Fryre
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 the snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning 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
Amy McCae 