My mother’s Yahrzeit is coming up in just over one week. I can not bear the thought. It will be nine years without her. As it turns out, the specific day is a holiday in the U.S.
She always stressed that life must go on, and that she would be hovering around. I looked for a poem that would encompass those thoughts, and found one:
Do Not Stand at My Grave and weep
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 sun 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 circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
-Mary Elizabeth Frye
Hoping you all have a nice weekend. Shabbat Shalom!
Lorri M. Writings and Photography 
Hard to miss your mother. Yahrzeits aren’t fun. Shabbat Shalom.
It is hard, as you well know. They are not fun. Shabbat Shalom.
This is a beautiful poem, and I love the thought. I’m saving it to read again on the anniversary of the death of my mother. Thank you.
Thank you, George. It’s nice to hear you are saving it to read again.
It is a beautiful poem Lorri! I had heard it once but did not know who had written it.
Gabriella, I really love it.