Immortality
Do not stand on 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's 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 starshine at night.
I am not there. I did not die.
Robert Hepburn
A Bridge Called Love
It takes us back to brighter years,
to happier sunlit days
And to precious moments
that will be with us always.
And these fond recollections
are treasured in the heart
To bring us always close to those
from whom we had to part.
There is a bridge of memories
from earth to Heaven above
It keeps our dear ones near us
It's the bridge that we call love.
Katie our beloved Girl, Oh how we miss you.
We have loved, but now that you are gone, we have lost.
Sweetheart, wait for us just inside the gate.
We promise darling, we will be there soon.
Forever and beyond,
Mommy and Daddy
Katie lost her fight with cancer on November 15, 2003
I carefully lift the latch,
stepping through the gate,
which in another time
might have been a stile
or an arching bridge,
rounded, quaint,
a point of passing
into a fragrant meadow
with sound of water
signifying a free-running brook
hidden in a grove of trees...
But now, I only lift the latch,
stepping into a place of eternal spring,
doves soaring, butterflies hovering,
music wafting on the breeze.
I become one with all that is.
In a rare moment of knowing,
eternal truth catches me unaware
between the coo of doves
and the buzzing of bees.
Living in verdant meadows
where the River of Life runs,
the songs of saints soothing my spirit
until my butterfly soul sprouts wings,
I soar on waves of music
enraptured by the colors enfolding me
radiant with the light of God.
Real in presence beyond my being,
I become what most I am,
my own song blending harmoniously
with the music of the spheres
and celestial choruses
eternally resonating, soul and spirit,
with all that is...or ever will be.
Mary Ellen Grisham
Rest in Peace Sister, my Sweet Angel.
I love and miss you too.
Always,
Nigel.
2003
There is sweet music here
That softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass
Or night dews upon silvery waters
Between walls of shadowy granite
In a gleaming pass
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies
Than tired lids upon tired eyes.
Do not stand on 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's 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 starshine at night.
A Bridge Called Love
It takes us back to brighter years,
to happier sunlit days
And to precious moments
that will be with us always.
And these fond recollections
are treasured in the heart
To bring us always close to those
from whom we had to part.
There is a bridge of memories
from earth to Heaven above
It keeps our dear ones near us
It's the bridge that we call love.
Katie our beloved Girl, Oh how we miss you.
We have loved, but now that you are gone, we have lost.
Sweetheart, wait for us just inside the gate.
We promise darling, we will be there soon.
Forever and beyond,
Mommy and Daddy
stepping through the gate,
which in another time
might have been a stile
or an arching bridge,
rounded, quaint,
a point of passing
into a fragrant meadow
with sound of water
signifying a free-running brook
hidden in a grove of trees...
But now, I only lift the latch,
stepping into a place of eternal spring,
doves soaring, butterflies hovering,
music wafting on the breeze.
I become one with all that is.
In a rare moment of knowing,
eternal truth catches me unaware
between the coo of doves
and the buzzing of bees.
Living in verdant meadows
where the River of Life runs,
the songs of saints soothing my spirit
until my butterfly soul sprouts wings,
I soar on waves of music
enraptured by the colors enfolding me
radiant with the light of God.
Real in presence beyond my being,
I become what most I am,
my own song blending harmoniously
with the music of the spheres
and celestial choruses
eternally resonating, soul and spirit,
with all that is...or ever will be.
I love and miss you too.
Always,
Nigel.
There is sweet music here
That softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass
Or night dews upon silvery waters
Between walls of shadowy granite
In a gleaming pass
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies
Than tired lids upon tired eyes.
