To Alek, a lovely, gentle and kind man. You bore your illness with dignity, stoicism and humour. Knowing you was an honour and a privilege. We hope you like this poem, written by a Navajo chief, that we have chosen for you. Elizabeth might like to read it too:
'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 waken 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.'
With love from Anne and Sophie Wilson xxx.
wilsonozzie
11th November 2011