Death by Joyce Grenfell

If I should die before the rest of you,

Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone.

Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,

But be the usual selves that I have known.

Weep if you must,

Parting is hell.

But life goes on, So…….. sing as well.

Joyce Grenfell, actress and writer (1910 – 1979)

Is heaven in the yellow pages?

Mummy went to Heaven, but I need her here today,
My tummy hurts and I fell down, I need her right away.
Operator can you tell me how to find her in this book?
Is Heaven in the yellow part, I don’t know where to look.
I think my daddy needs her too, at night I hear him cry.
I hear him call her name sometimes, but I really don’t know why.
Maybe if I call her, she will hurry home to me.
Is Heaven very far away, is it across the sea?
She’s been gone a long, long time. She really needs to come home now!
I really need to reach her but I simply don’t know how.
Help me find the number please, Is it listed under Heaven?
I can’t read these big words, I am only seven.
I’m sorry operator, I didn’t mean to make you cry.
Is your tummy hurting too, or is there something in your eye?
If I call my church maybe they will know.
Mummy said when we need help that’s where we should go.
I found the number to my church tacked up on the wall.
Thank you operator, I’ll give them a call.
 
 by Donna Groleau.

The day God took you home

I’ve been given this to read at a funeral….

You never said I’m leaving
You never said good-bye
You were gone before I knew it
And only God knew why

A million times we’ve needed you,
A million times we’ve cried.
If love alone could’ve saved you,
You never would have died.

In life we loved you dearly,
In death we love you still.
In our hearts you hold a place,
No one else will ever fill.

It broke our hearts to lose you,
But you didn’t go alone.
Part of us went with you,
The day God took you home.

Anon

 

I did not die

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.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.

– Anonymous

Update:

I’ve been sent this link: – http://www.businessballs.com/donotstandatmygraveandweep.htm  which means this poem is believed to be by Mary Frye.

Miss me, but let me go

When I come to the end of the road,
And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little – but not for long.
And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that once we shared.
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we must all take,
And each must go alone.
It’s all part of the master plan,
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart,
Go to the friends we know,
Laugh at all the things we used to do.
Miss me, but let me go.
 

Anonymous

God looked around his garden

God looked around his garden
And He found an empty place.
And then He looked down upon the earth,
And saw your tired face.
He put His arms around you,
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful,
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were suffering,
He knew you were in pain,
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough,
And the hills were hard to climb,
So He closed your weary eyelids,
And whispered “Peace be thine.”

Anon