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.
He died peacefully ten days later.
From the 23rd, whilst staying in his house, I found comfort through sketching. I tried to record details of dad that would be lost in a photo, but are the little things that show his everyday life.
Dad loved hats, and throughout the house there are caps, trilbies, straw hats and others. I struggled to sketch over the days after his funeral and this hasn't come out as I wanted, the cold hallway didn't help, but it does show some of dad's many hats.