Remembrance: Planned Gifts

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Poems/Stories

These are just some musings, some quotes, some thoughts. I've had to let so many greyhounds leave. Leave to love others, leave to run the rainbow and leave behind to a life (and death) unknown. Tears come easily when I think of them all. The red brindled, tail wagging, older girl with the terminal surgery ticket on her cage at CSU. No name, no home, no one to ever have loved her. My tribute to those greyhounds who left me love is at In Memory.

I keep on because just one life changed by the love of a hound, just one more dog in a home, just one more chance at love and a life is something that helps to balance and change this world. And I'm the lucky one - the one who has had more love in my life than so many others. So I let them go, and I go on to love. It's the best legacy I can give.

When you are dead, you are dead. Fini, final, na-da, kaput, sayonara, gone, adios. The presence that was you, is no longer impacting this earth. Memories are all that is left. And your legacy - what you leave behind to pass on the things you believed in.

One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
Gerard FitzGerald 1808-1883

Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes, all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.
New American Bible. 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 4- 8.
 

So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the Breast,
And the heart must pause to breath
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
Lord Byron

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not here.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow'
I am the diamond glints on snow;
I am the sunlight on ripened grains;
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 star that shines at night.
Do not stand by my grave and cry:
I am not there;
I did not die.
Anonymous
 

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