Rebecca Margaret Swift 10th January 1964 - 18th April 2017
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Becky...you fabulous, original, brave and feisty, big-hearted, brilliant woman. I will miss you. My soul will endeavour to remember that 'hope is the thing with feathers' and my heart will forever remember those amazing conversations over a glass or several of that "good almost bordering on excellent claret" - at The Ladbroke Arms 15 years ago. Thank you for open-handed opportunities given. Love always from Frankie B.
Frankie
1st May 2017
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Poems by Mary Elizabeth Frye : 1 / 1
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep - Poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye
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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 sunlight 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.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Jan
29th April 2017
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies
Jan
27th April 2017
Candles
Remembering Rebecca, especially today. x
Lit by St Joseph's Hospice Hackney on 18th April 2023
Golden. Here and beyond.
"She walked along the lane, along the shady lane
And the birds all sang in tune
And the wind did blow and the birds did sing
A melody of love"
Lit by Julia x on 23rd April 2017