Poem text 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 ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain
She was a silent fighter with a demon in her lung that stole her breaths from her before they passed her tongue. He was a silent fighter who was always taught to share so he held his breath when he was with her so she could have his air.
No person has the right to condemn you on how you repair your heart or how long you choose to grieve, because no one knows how much you're hurting. Recovering takes time, and everyone heals at his or her own pace. *BE WELL.