Words in memory of Jean.
Jean first met my mum, Sylvia, when they arrived at Teacher Training College as 18 year olds and shared a room. They remained friends, both still enthralled with the joy of teaching until their passing last year.
I’d like to share a poem that resonated with mum and was read at her funeral. Jean approved of the choice.
Do not stand in this place 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 this place and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.
“Do not stand at my grave and weep” adapted from Mary Elizabeth Frye
Graham Meek
04/01/2026
