Do not stand on my grave and weep

My grandmother died on Friday.

She was coming back from doing the shopping when she fell down the stairs.

A fortnight ago, when we went over to Paris to visit her, she wouldn’t go out of the house, because she had fallen over in the street in the past and was worried that she would be unable to get up again.

Anyone who knew her would have told you how fiercely independent she always was, and this change in her really startled me. I’d seen her health get slowly worse over the last few years, but I was really shocked by quite how housebound she had become.

We took her out walking a couple of times – and she didn’t fall over. Maybe we gave her some extra confidence… I don’t know.

Clearly, though, on Friday morning she had gone out shopping, on her own. She didn’t fall in the street, the thing of which she was afraid.

She didn’t want to have her condition keep getting worse.

She had lived a truly incredible life – living in France, Belgium and the UK during the Second World War, and moving back to Paris in 1948 to work for the newly created UNESCO – where she spent the rest of her working life.

She was integral in getting ATD Fourth World recognised as a Non-Governmental Organisation by UNESCO – and she remained a staunch supporter of the organisation right until the end. One of the earliest memories I have of her house in Sceaux is of the posters for ATD Fourth World on the walls of her garage.

She was a remarkable woman – my only regret is that I never really got to know her as well as I should have. She was my grandma (“Mummy Mummy”) – someone who gave me presents at Christmas and had a garden particularly suited for hunting Easter eggs.

I will miss her.

IMMORTALITY
by Anonymous

Do not stand on 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’s 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 starshine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry…
I am not there. I did not die.

Adella Kay: 1919 – 2005