I woke up this morning, melancholy. I dreamt of going to Dad’s funeral. Again. And as with all dreams, there were many nonsensical moments, weird outfits, and unexpected people showing up.
And somewhere, this song came back to me from the far reaches of my memory.
Prayer, Lizzie West
“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that flow
I am the sunlight on my own grave
I am a gentle autumn rain
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
do not stand at my grave and cry
do not stand at my grave and cry
do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there I did not die
(Spoken)
man as yet is half grown
Even his flower stem has not appeared yet
He’s all leaves and roots without a sign of stem in sight
Blossoming, establishing a new pure relationship with the cosmos
It is the sign of heaven.
It’s the sign of the cobra.
It’s the sign of a man who knows himself royally.
Crowned with the sun.
His feet gripping the earth as he goes.
We have arrived.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there I did not die.
I am not there I did not die.
I like to think that my grandfather is on some epic adventure and that he’s not really “gone.” (Of course, I also like to think my life isn’t *really* a mess!)
I’m sorry you’re hurting. *big tight hugs*
The funeral dream is a very good one, actually. You are working things out in your head. These things take time….one foot in front of the other.
It was a weird dream. I’ve had two almost exactly the same… all sorts of weird events/people holding up the funeral. Wearing weird clothes… in the second one I had on a black cowboy hat. (??) And in the end, in both dreams, the funeral never happened.
I miss him so, so much. And I feel so strangled by it.