By Lynda Sexson
When I die, if you need to weep, cry for someone walking on the street beside you.
And when you need me, put your arms around others and give them what you need to give me. Continue reading
loss
Yizkor
At the rising of the sun at its going down we remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of the winter we remember them
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring we remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer we remember them. Continue reading