For some reason, good or bad, I have had death on my mind for a few months now. It pops up a lot more frequently than it used to (maybe it’s just my age). Especially during this holiday season, I’ve thought about not only the loved ones I have lost over the years, but my life in the future. We are guaranteed loss in our futures. Everything that lives, dies. I’m not looking at it with depression, necessarily, but I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t frighten me to think about my life without the ones I love. Those who die first have it easy, they don’t have to live without their loved ones.
This is all a bit morbid, I realize and in sharp contrast to the joy of the holiday. I’m sharing this because today I came across a poem that makes me smile and offers some comfort. Those we love are never really lost to us.
- 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
The Nemeton 