the Pennsylvania hills of my father’s childhood

We buried my beautiful mother 32 years ago ~ and not a day goes by that I don’t think of her or feel that she’s with me.

Yesterday my father joined her in heaven. And not a day will go by that I won’t think of him, or cherish the remarkable goodness and brilliance that he was. His was a long life, lived well; the world was truly made a better place for his many blessings. We’ll miss him. A lot.

Dad, thank you, for everything. I hope you and Mom dance the night away.

For anyone who’s ever lost someone dear, I offer comfort through this wonderful poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye. 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave bereft
I am not there. I have not left.

– Mary Elizabeth Frye –

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