Michelle Lee Goodman
February 14, 1959 - November 11, 1998
Beloved Daughter of
Wallace & Debbie Goodman
By Peggy Kociscin
There lived a little unicorn
(From when the earth was new);
His coat so white it glistened,
His eyes a sparkling blue.
In innocence and beauty
He danced through woods and streams;
The animals danced with him,
His heart aglow with dreams.
He laughed and played with rainbows,
So happy all day through;
He loved to kiss the flowers
As their petals shone with dew.
He wandered through the meadows,
In the moon's soft, silver light;
He loved to gaze at all the stars
That lightened up the night.
He listened to the music of
The birds that graced the trees;
He frolicked with the butterflies,
And raced the gentle breeze.
But as he grew and learned of life
The sparkle in his eye
Grew misty as he realized
Just what it means to cry.
He learned that there were shadows,
In spite of shining sun:
The more he grew, he found that life
Was never always fun.
For now he'd learned of feelings
That come from deep within;
No longer in the "dream world"
Where (for so long) he'd been.
His gentle heart desired but
To know the pleasure of
To give and to receive the very
Precious gift of love.
To love meant happiness, and yet
It also brought him pain;
For those he loved could hurt him
Again, and yet again.
His mother'd held him lovingly
And tried to ease his fears
About the sadness life could bring,
The lonely, bitter tears.
She'd said, "Life is like a mountain,
(And, surely this is true);
That we must climb as best we can,
There's no `around' or `through'."
The unicorn tried tirelessly,
And gave the climb his best;
He felt it was not good enough,
He felt he'd failed the test.
He could not understand it when
He felt himself rejected,
When all his gentle being asked
Was but to be accepted.
All this was just too much for him,
He knew not what to do;
That he was special as himself
Somehow, he never knew.
His spirit crushed, he felt defeated.
Lonely tears would start;
Not understanding how to love,
It simply broke his heart.
But now he's in a loving place
Where all his pain has ceased;
Where all accept him and his love,
Where all he knows is peace.
A loving Being tells him,
"You're delightful, as you are;"
His spirit free, his brilliance now
Outshines the brightest star.
They That Love
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same
the root and record of their friendship.
If absence be not death, neither is theirs.
Death is but crossing the world,
as friends do the sea;
they live for one another still.
This is the comfort of friends: that though they may be said to die,
yet their friendship and society are,
in the best sense immortal,
they are ever present.
Do Not Stand at My Grave & Weep
Mary Frye (1932)
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 glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning 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 weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
(Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!