May is a month that is dedicated to celebrate our mothers. During my sessions many times the spirits bring the memories back to a day when they felt special. They don’t choose our calendar dates any longer, but instead the days that they felt loved. Those who are alive tend to focus on special holidays.
My mother loved Mother’s Day. She had her rituals, and they were what the family followed. She was very religious and felt going to church to honor Jesus’ mother Mary was very important. My mother got dressed up for church, and throughout the Mass she proudly held my hand. The priest gave out flowers to all the mothers, which brought my mother joy.
As the years went on and I became a mother, I still made Mother’s Day special for her. As I look back, there was one Mother’s Day in particular. We all dressed up and went to church. As I stood next to her, I now watched my daughter take her hand. The priest read a poem which he dedicated to the mother’s of the past. As I listen to the poem, I glanced up at my mother and could see the age in her face. I took her other hand and knew that one day this poem would be dedicated to her. I would like to share this poem with my mother and all the mothers who have crossed over.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
Author unknown