Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

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.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

I heard this poem on WGN on the day after 9/11. I was coming home from visiting my dad at the nursing home. The whole country, as you remember, was in shock and mourning.TV and radio stations were nonstop with pictures, news, sadness, tributes etc. I really don't remember if there were commercials during that first day.

At WGN a favorite of mine, Rick Kogan, was on trying to hold things together at the station.... I believe a day later. I had always loved this Chicago newsman. He worked for the Sun Times, and the Chicago Tribune. His Sunday morning show...Sunday Papers was a favorite of mine. He had such a distinctive voice...gravely and warm.  He was on the radio to bring some comfort to everyone that day.He read this poem and I was listening. It made me cry, while I was driving home.

I remember writing to him just a short time later, to find out what poem he had read on that day.  I explained to him that my husband had passed away, and I wanted one of my grand children to read it at his funeral.He sent me an email, with the poem included, along with his comforting words. So, as we remember 9/11 take some time to read this poem. It's been read at many funerals since that time. Maybe you've heard it before...

There was some controversy about who authored it. It wasn't until 1998 when Dear Abby (Abigail VanBuren) did some research and found the truth. You might remember Dear Abby. Her real name was

Pauline Esther Friedman. She took the name Abigail VanBuren combining the Bible name Abigail and the president's last name VanBuren. 

We'll never forget...

Balisha