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 the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
for I am not there,
I did not die.
I almost managed all of it without cracking.
The service went well and the minister did a very good summary of Mum's life considering he had never met her and had just had one meeting with my sister and me.
Afterwards we went back to Mum's house for food, drinks and lots of chat - five bottles of champagne helped everyone relax.
And then, hours later, people went; a few, then a few more, then others. Finally I left Mary with a friend of her's who had come down to help with the organising. There is an empty feeling left, but there are many happy memories as well.
For those who haven't seen it yet, I wrote a limerick about Mum's death. I can't tead it without crying, so you may need a tissue if you follow the link: http://www.oedilf.com/db/Lim.php?LimerickId=18576