Monday, September 12, 2011 | By: Reenie


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. 
- Elizabeth Frye, 1932

I remember thinking of this poem around the time my grandmother died. It's been 4 years now, almost. It's strange to think that 4 years back, on a September day... my world had gotten a little smaller.

Dida, forever missed. 

Sometimes when I think of her, her absence speaks to me... then there are times when I feel she is right there inside of me... but most of the times, despite the pain and sadness of her parting- and despite knowing that I will never ever see her again, I'm glad I was an important part of HER life...

... as she was in mine.

Four long years and many more to come, I guess...

I miss you Dids. I wish you never left... and I wish my heart and my brain could trick me into believing in some kind of an afterlife for just once so that I could hope to see you again.
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