My cousin's grandmother passed away last week. The night before her funeral this poem became lodged in my head.

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye (1904-2004)

Paulette Nicole Furrie, 91, was an actress, wife and mother with a wicked sense of humor and a killer French accent. Three days before she passed she asked to be buried all in purple - she was.