March 1, 2010
Don’t stand by 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’s rain.
When you awake in morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry…
I am not there, I did not die.
-Unknown Native American Author
There are two spots along the trail that always bring tears to my eyes. They were favorite stopping points for Cain where we always managed to linger for a while. One exceptionally large cottonwood tree, which lies directly across the path from the yard where the white dog lives, the other just a few feet away on the opposite side of the trail. Close enough to each other that if I try to avert my gaze from one, it falls upon the other. Short of walking with my eyes closed, I am forced to look at one or the other. It doesn’t help that the white dog still runs to the fence barking hysterically each time we make the approach. I’ve watched others pass with their dogs and he doesn’t let out a peep, which leads me to believe that Bear is a constant reminder of Cain, or I have a white angel dog that still taunts him to this day. I like to think it’s the latter! Either way, it’s always been the same scenario until today…
I didn’t cry.
