Do Not Weep

Thank you, Cynthia, for sharing this poem with me, especially since I continue to want to feel my Mom around me. Thank you.

Do Not Weep
-Mary Elizabeth 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.

Family Tree

My friend, E.K, wrote this poem in memory of my Mom. E.K. first met my Mom when we were in high school in Houston. Thank you so much, E.K.

Family Tree
In Memory of Adelina, 1938 - 2010
by E.K. Keith


Our family tree
branches and roots

We are the branches
mother
daughter
son
father
brother
sister

What if a mother
crosses an ocean
and her daughter and son
don't share their mother's
mother tongue?
Who are we not?

A bigger family
with wider branches
and deeper roots

We have our time
Branches turn to roots
gone from view, underground.
Remembering is our responsibility
Remember who roots us
to the history of the world

Our family tree
branches and roots
and the forest is the human family

Timing is everything

I have accepted my Mom's death, but I'm still working through the "why now?" timing. I want to feel my Mom around me. It's interesting feeling this way, and not being religious. I see how believing in Heaven and that one's loved one is there looking down, can be very soothing.

My Mom was at peace with the timing of her death. Earlier this year, she told my husband and me that if it was her time, she was ready to go. She felt she had lived a full life. Her big concern had been to see my brother and me grow to adulthood, and since I'm 40, that happened a long time ago.

But I wasn't ready to let her go. I remember during the two weeks at the hospital never thinking she would not pull through. Until the day before she died. Her leukemia doctor told us she wouldn't make it because she was experiencing multi-organ failure, and the drugs she was receiving were not helping her because her kidneys could not process them or get rid of the IV fluids. I could see this physically, but I couldn't accept it. I kept insisting it wasn't her time yet, but actually I was the one who was not ready for her to go.

My Mom and I didn't always see eye to eye. Still so many things about her inspire me: her grace, her optimism. Her love of travel and of people. We had grown closer recently, partly because I had started to do more traditional family things - getting married, starting to have children. Grandchildren were so special to my Mom. She loved the time she spent with my nephews, especially the young three year old. And two more were on the way.

Timing was everything. I blithely counted on her being with us for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it was not to be. I am trying to take comfort in the cycle of life - my Mom made sure she knew that my brother's son was born healthy, and that I was far enough along in my eighth month before she passed on.

It's so hard to believe I won't see her again. Especially because we don't live in the same city. So she might just call me one Sunday. And if not, how she will live on: in me, in my baby on the way?

I love you, and I miss you, Mom.