Stand at the Grave and Weep

After church this morning, we drove to the cemetery where Susan's mother is buried in northeast Dickinson to put flowers on her grave. The weekend has been overcast and rainy with a strong, cold wind, weather that seemed entirely appropriate for our sad task today. It has been nine years since Sue died, and we still miss her very much.

Those who knew Sue will likely agree that her daughter and granddaughters strongly resemble her. Suzanna was the only grandchild whom Sue ever met, but all three girls know how much they are loved by Grandma Gustafson still, even though it must be from afar.

While at that cemetery, we stopped to pay our respects at two other spots: the side-by-side graves of Susan's grandparents (Sue's parents), Lester and Susan Morey; and the relatively fresh grave site of Mr. Wolberg, who sold us our house nearly two years ago.

Tomorrow we will drive to my own mother's grave outside Battleview, ND to place flowers, share stories, and cry together. We will also visit the graves of all my grandparents and several other relatives there and at cemeteries north and northwest of my dad's place (and we'll spend the day visiting him and my stepmom).

Since I'm in a sad, reflective, memorial mood, I'll share a poem that's commonly used at funerals as well as a choral arrangement of that song. You may find them depressing, but they're supposed to bring you comfort and a sense of peace as you think about your own loved ones who have passed away and whom you miss and remember fondly.

"Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" by Mary Frye

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.