Never does one feel oneself so utterly helpless as in trying to speak comfort for great bereavement. 

I will not try it. 

Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother. 

By Jane Welsh Carlyle

Poem on Mom's Memorial Card

Do not 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 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.

Derived from an original poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye

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