Stories from Behind the Lens

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 glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning 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 weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there, I did not die.

For dear Kenny, who would have turned 12 today, happy birthday buddy. I remember when you were born, I made you a blanket because I was so excited about you. I remember your proud mama bringing you to school to show you off. I remember seeing you toddling around at our school picnics. I remember seeing you years later, all grown up, swimming in at the pool with  your sister. I remember seeing your room, untouched from the last time you'd been there, your shoes still by the bed, now a place for your family to go and remember you. Dear Kenny, here's to you.