Obituary of Christina Reyce

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 softly falling snow, I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields ripened grain, I am the morning hush, I am the graceful rush of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers bloom, I am the quiet in the room I am in the birds that sing. I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there