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!