Do not stand at my grave and weep

One of my close friend's from high school, Matt Potocki, lost his mother this past Sunday. Today was the funeral, and I drove down to Munster Indiana to support my friend and say goodbye to his lovely mother, Nancy. The mass was a mixture of happiness and sadness, but most of all it was hard for me to see my friend, his brother, and his father in such pain. They are not the type of men that show their emotions (at least the softer emotions), and so it was that much more poignant to see them in such sorrow. One of my teachers from high school (a priest) was performing the mass, and I recognized a number of teachers and other classmates at the ceremony. Nice to see so many people come out to support my friend's family. After the mass was done, my friend's dad, who is a notorious badass and the kind of man that you never see smile, let alone cry, said some words about his late wife. His raw emotions and pure love were too much for me to handle, and I lost it for a bit and cried. It felt good to cry. 

There was a poem on the back of the funeral mass pamphlet that I kept rereading, and so I've included it below. I'll write it here for you as well. I truly believe that death is not an ending, but a new beginning which occurs far from our earthly bodies, so this message really resonated with me. I pictured my good friend and his family standing around his mom's grave weeping...all while she is away and continuing on her journeys. It was comforting. It's stuck with me all day and so I wanted to write something here to remember her, my friend, his family, and the fact that our time on earth is very limited.

Make it count. 

Make time. 

Tell everyone you love that you love them. 

Show everyone that you love that you love them. 

Follow you heart. 

Listen to your gut. 

Love life. 

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am the diamond glints on the snow,

I am the sunlight on the 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 starts that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

by Mary Frye