When I Die

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I stumbled across this poem, a few years ago and needless to say I like it. I like poetry, but I am no poet. I just wanted to share this poem.

I try to talk to my son because I know he will be the one making arrangements for my services. He never wants to talk about it. He says he can’t think about my death. I know it’s not an easy subject for most people. But it is a reality that we are all going to die. I just feel that if we make plans a head if time it will be easier for the person who is doing the arrangement to know what to do. Because one thing I know is, these funeral homes will certainly play on the loved ones emotions. I plan to be cremated. Theres no need for a grave site, and the whole head stone and all of that. I always tell him my play list for my services. There wont be the typical funeral music in the background of my funeral. The only thing I’ll leave for him to do is write my eulogy. That is something that has to come from a persons own experience of how I made them feel. My one hope is that no matter what, but when people I have came across in my lifetime I always try to make fond memories or at least a pleasant experience. Most often times people wont remember you for what you say, but for how you made them feel.

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.

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