Wednesday, September 29, 2010


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 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.
                         Mary Frye

Today I attended the funeral of a friend of John's. Last night I went to the viewing. It was at the same funeral home where John's had been back in May. I knew it would be hard. I did not realize how hard it would be.
Today I cried all through the service as if it were John's. Because in a sense it was. I grieved for the family knowing what they were facing, what the days and weeks and months ahead would be like. Experiencing the services put me instantly back to four months ago, bringing all the emotions back up as if they were happening right now.
Why did I go? Because I knew John would have gone if he were here. I guess I was doing it for him. I also felt he was going to be there in spirit and I wanted to feel that we were doing this together. Call me crazy but I know he was there for his friend. I wanted to be there with him.

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