I am having this poem engraved on our father’s memorial plaque:

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.

I’m trying not to weep.

He had been fighting cancer for years, covid brought the end, too soon.

I still see him in my mind, he will always be there, our Great Bear.

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