On Monday I stood before the mass of people who came to pay their respects to Erik, at his funeral. This is what I had to say.
My sweet little brother. I love you so much. I will miss you forever and always. I wonder what Thanksgiving and Christmas will be like without you. I cry just thinking about how you will not be a groomsman at my wedding one day. I am sad because I feel in this world you did not fully comprehend how much you were loved. But I think now, in Heaven, you do. Now you are free. I never thought I would be writing your obituary, or speaking at your memorial service. You were supposed to be doing that for me one day. I used to carry you around on my hip, just 1 or 2 years old at the time, when you were just a toddler. I beat up the bullies for you, but I guess I couldn’t protect you from everything. I know I will never get over the loss of you, my little brother. But I hope the memories that now make me sad will one day make me smile in fond, loving memory of you.
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.