|Flowers on every grave at the Loyola Memorial Park|
Earlier this morning, as I was looking for a pretty flower bouquet to take to my father's grave, I heard a voice inside my head saying.. "Don't spend your money on flowers for me. Feed a hungry child instead." All I could think of is "Daddy, is that you?"
I will be going to the cemetery tomorrow. I will still bring flowers, but I will remember to feed a hungry child, just as I was instructed.
Sharing this poem with you.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
by Mary Elizabeth Frye (1932)
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.
Missing you Daddy.