These I filled with every picture I had of him and a typed copy of Frye's poem: "Do not stand at my grave and weep ...".
Some of them cried to receive it, some thanked me, some quietly closed the book and changed the subject. But I know they all appreciated it.
Especially when you consider that they all lived so close that not one of them took pictures of him on a regular basis. Why would they? He was right there.
~~~
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 softly falling snow,
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight
I am in the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room,
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I do not die.
~Mary E. Frye (1932)
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