It's been a month


I keep seeing you everywhere, and while it's comforting at times, it's also terrifying. In the stars at night, as I ask for some kind of sign. Say hello, tell me you're still here, because I can't bear it if you're not. Please, something. And so something will happen - a bird will fly across the sky, a cloud will share a wink. And I'll smile because I know you are - you are here, somehow. I hope. I have to have this hope because if I don't, I don't know how to go on. I'm still here thinking about you. Precious you. You who left us way too early, without warning. I wish I could know if you knew it would happen. I wish you could have told us. The pain I felt in my gut as you were buried is still there, I feel it when I think back to that day. I don't know how to fill that hole up again, if that's even possible.

If anything, I have to be grateful that now I feel things so much stronger. I have to notice the small things, the times when we're all together laughing, and I wish you were there, but still being so thankful that moment is even happening. That it happened. That you happened.

So please keep saying hello. I'll do it too. I just hope you can hear me.


Do not stand at my grave and weep

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.

- Mary Frye (1932)