A very dear friend of ours has gone to the Bridge and we are in a true state of shock.His antics made us laugh and he was a dear friend. When he came to visit us(Flat Mango that is) he was the first and the ONLY boy that I ever ever let into my bomb shelter...... We know he is over the bridge dancing and playing and eating with all of our our other pals,in fact Bussie is showing his the ropes and Joey is flipping the cheeseburgers...It is those of us that are left behind that have the hardest task Pl2 told us to put this poem up and we think it is just right. It is a Navajo poem.....
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.
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.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
God Speed dear boy We will miss you Your little Boston pals