The following poem is one Mother sent to me which she dearly loved. It would have been nice to have read this at her funeral. But at least I can share it here, in memory as her message to us now:

A Native American Prayer 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 riped grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift, uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave at cry, I am not there, I did not die. from Among the Heroes, memorials at Shanksville, PA for 9-11