Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
source 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 sunlight 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. Poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye In loving memory of my grandfather, Mansur Mulyakusumah (6 February 1938-15 June 2006) Today would be my grandpa's 76th birthday. Somehow, I think if my grandpa could choose a poem about his own death, he would choose this. I miss you, Dear Grandpa. I know you are up there in the better place with God, being a pious, honest, and intelligent person you were :)