Cause for Celebration

Remembering a Life

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 by my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Joyce Fossen

A friend of mine, Gayle, died yesterday. She was sick, but had rallied and there was talk of discharging her from the hospital. And then, without ceremony, she died. When I think of her, I remember best her laugh, and the beautiful skeins of yarn piled in baskets around her loom. She made gorgeous shawls and scarves. I once had a sumptuous Thanksgiving meal at her house with her family and friends. She had prepared the entire meal herself, from appetizers to dessert. She was a take-charge sort of woman, deeply engaged in life, and given to quests. She loved to experience anything new, and to learn something she didn't know before. She traveled whenever she could. She was an untethered soul, yet deeply rooted in the Episcopal church in her little town of Meridian, MS. She sang in the choir, organized the sheet music into a library, sat on the search committee, planted the garden. When Gayle was in the house, even the house of the Holy, she was the boss of it. It seems strange to think I will not see her again. I am glad to know that her spirit will remain—when the choir sings, she will be there. Everywhere her family and friends look, they will see things she touched and remember her words and her laughter.

The way to keep memory strong is to speak often of the person; to call their name and tell stories of their exploits, to laugh long about their idiosyncrasies, their flaws. It's okay to cry for your own loss and for others who will sorely miss them. But, if you can, celebrate too. Celebrate the fact that they were in your life, remember the gift of their presence, do something to honor them—something they would do if they could. And look for the signs that they are alive and well in spirit. If you look for them, you will find them everywhere in the things and places they loved. Gayle was a master gardener—I'll bet she still is.

In the Spirit,
Jane