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This work is done for my sister and in memory of her dearest love, husband and friend who passed away recently.

The poem was used for his memorial service.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Do not stand at my grave and weep is a poem written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye. Although the origin of the poem was disputed until later in her life, Mary Frye’s authorship was confirmed in 1998 after research by Abigail Van Buren, a newspaper columnist.

The “definitive version,” as published by The Times and The Sunday Times in Frye’s obituary, 5 November 2004:

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 sun 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 circling flight. I am the soft star-shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

Mary Frye, who was living in Baltimore at the time, wrote the poem in 1932. She had never written any poetry, but the plight of a young German Jewish woman, Margaret Schwarzkopf, who was staying with her and her husband, inspired the poem. She wrote it down on a brown paper shopping bag. Margaret Schwarzkopf had been concerned about her mother, who was ill in Germany, but she had been warned not to return home because of increasing anti-Semitic unrest. When her mother died, the heartbroken young woman told Frye that she never had the chance to “stand by my mother’s grave and shed a tear”. Frye found herself composing a piece of verse on a brown paper shopping bag. Later she said that the words “just came to her” and expressed what she felt about life and death. Mary Frye circulated the poem privately. Because she never published or copyrighted it, there is no definitive version. She wrote other poems, but this, her first, endured. Her obituary in The Times made it clear that she was the author of the famous poem, which has been recited at funerals and on other appropriate occasions around the world for eighty years.

The poem was introduced to many in Britain when it was read by the father of a soldier killed by a bomb in Northern Ireland. The soldier’s father read the poem on BBC radio in 1995 in remembrance of his son, having been left it in an envelope addressed ‘To all my loved ones’ in his personal effects. The authorship of the poem was established a few years later after an investigation by journalist Abigail Van Buren. There is a short illustrated book of the poem sometimes to be found in small-town bookshops with ink drawings for each line that includes this story in the inside dustjacket, written before the authorship was confirmed and therefore stating that the authorship is unknown.

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Special Thanx to Stock:

I knew I wanted to be an artist at age 4 (Full story: Click on full portfolio, Click on my name)

I am permanently disabled and work at home. Previously, I have been employed as Art Director at California Manufacturers Association and Production Artist at SMW Communications of Sacramento CA.

I studied art at The Academy of Art in San Francisco 1977-79
Oils. Acrylics. Watercolors. Pastels. Inks. Charcoals. Graphites.

Currently I am focused and self taught in Digital Art.

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  • Norma-jean Morrison
    Norma-jean Mor...over 2 years ago

    so special….all will be remembered…………….

  • Thank you again Norma-Jean…I do believe all will be remembered its just so hard to see my sis in such pain….

    – Tammera

  • Julie  White
    Julie Whiteover 2 years ago

    Beautifully said at a time of sadness.

  • thank you again dearest Julie…;-D

    – Tammera

  • Nadya Johnson
    Nadya Johnsonover 2 years ago

    What a wonderful and touching tribute this is, Tammera! I love the poem ~ I was familiar with it (vaguely), didn’t know who wrote it though. And I have always had the sense that it’s so very true… they are “not there.” Not at grave-sites, tombs or columbariums, etc. The fact is, I’ve encountered loved ones elsewhere (!) ~ in spirit, after they were gone, I mean ~ so despite scoffing from the skeptics (I was a major skeptic once upon a time, myself) I do believe they’re somewhere. And maybe, just maybe, some do “haunt” old church-yards; there are certainly enough reports of such phenomena. But over-all ~ ~ no, the butterfly (the soul) is not obliged to hang around the remnants of the old cocoon. This is so beautiful! I hope your sister, and you, are recovering from your loss. Thanks so much for sharing this outstanding poem!

  • how beautifully said my dearest friend Nadya, thank you so much for your comforting words. I do believe he is helping to guide her to her next level before h ‘flies away’ too far…thank you kindly for your warm sentiments my friend!!

    – Tammera

  • annacuypers
    annacuypersover 2 years ago

    So beautiful Tammera, so tender and supportive at a very sad moment, love, xxo

  • Thank you my dear Anna, it has been sad, most especially so seeing the pain it causes my sister, but I know that with love she will be ok.

    – Tammera

  • MidnightMelody
    MidnightMelodyover 2 years ago

    A beautiful poem exquisitely illustrated! My deepest sympathy to you in your time of sorrow. You may find this musical rendition of the poem of comfort.

  • oh my!!….thank you ever so much for the link…I will have to check it out!
    and thank you for your heartfelt sympathies also Melody…;-)

    – Tammera

  • CarolM
    CarolMover 2 years ago

    Oh my Tammera, this is very beautiful and such a marvelous way to remember a loved one. Your sister must have been deeply touched. It’s a gentle, loving piece of work.

  • thank you so very much dear Carol, I am hoping it will bring a measure of comfort to her, not alot to do except support her the best possible as she endures hard times ahead.

    – Tammera

  • TheWanderingBoo
    TheWanderingBooover 2 years ago

    beautiful tribute

  • thank you Boo!!

    – Tammera

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