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 stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.
- Robert Hepburn
B occasionally asks "Is Daddy in real life?" "No," I say. "When someone dies, they aren't in real life anymore. Daddy is in pictures, in our memories, and in our hearts." One day recently she asked for a little more information, and I waxed poetic, remembering the Robert Hepburn poem above, and the great comfort I feel knowing T's scattered ashes are nourishing plants and animals in his favorite beautiful places. "When someone dies, they go back to nature. Daddy is in the breezes that blow, the sun that shines, the rain that falls, the plants that grow, the little animals that run around." Today after nap, she said "Daddy isn't here in real life. But he's in the animals that run around." "Yes," I said. "And he is always in our hearts."