A thread on a friend's FB Wall on death, brings to mind the quote that I rather like on this topic that some may view as morbid, but really, is but another facet of life.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
My mother confided to me, sometime after my
father died, that he had been visiting her from
time to time.
"Is he behaving well?" I asked
"Oh yes" she replied.
"Well that seems okay then.
Just tell him to 'get on his bike'
if he is getting on your nerves"
"Okay I will do that" she responded happily.
After 63 years of marriage, it would be
more of a surprise if he wasn't still with
her.
Which makes me wonder.
How much of Others, is them...
and how much is in our own imagination.
Posted via email from lindyasimus's posterous
