One of your posts reminded me of this poem which used to hang on my refrigerator - my mother spent many years as a hospice nurse, and used to give a copy of this poem to many of the family members of her patients.

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 sun 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 circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

~Mary Frye