After everyone had arrived, Robert called us all around the gravesite to share a few words with us. I made sure to stand by our medic for moral support (that "protective Momma Kat" thing, you know). I do not remember all Robert said, but I do remember him saying that Mike would want everyone to life happy, full lives ... and not to stay bogged down in grief and despair. He said "Taps was played here one year ago at the funeral... now it's time to play "Revellie" and charge forward and live life to its fullest!" And it was really weird that he said that, because when we were planning the 4th of July parade, the parade chairman had a plan to have a riderless horse in the parade -- and a bugler to play "Taps" in honor of Mike, and then "Revellie" in honor of all the soldiers who remain to continue the mission. It didn't quite work out the way it was planned the day of the parade... but that was the intent...and when Robert said that, I got chills remembering that.
Please say a prayer for the Stokely family and all of the families whose soldiers did not come home, they are owed our undying gratitude for their selfless service to our country. And so as Mr. Robert Stokely commands us, let us not stand here and grieve but rather let us rejoice in the life that was and the joy he brought us. Mike lived a life that brought him respect in life and honor in death, let it not be in vain and let us continue his mission with him by our side.
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.
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.
-Mary Frye
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