Not too morbid, I hope...

Not wanting to be morbid but this is the poem I would want said at my funeral. Totally in keeping with what I believe and beautiful to boot.

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 circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

Attributed to American housewife Mary Frye