He had cancer, so his death stopped his suffering.
But I still miss him...
Finding comfort
I'm finding comfort in my daily runs, and this beautiful poem that's widely attributed to Mary Elizabeth Frye:
'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 the snow.I am the sunlight on ripened grain;.I am the gentle autumn's rain.When you awaken in the morning's hush,I am the swift uplifting rushOf quiet birds in circled flight.I am the soft star that shines at night.Do not stand at my grave and cry.I am not there.'
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