This poem was written for a yizkor service, but may also be used during a memorial service. When we remember our loved ones, not just at the prescribed times and places, but in a multitude of moments, we inscribe them upon the pages of our memory and, as tradition teaches, they live on in us.
When it is time for me to leave this world,
don’t think of me beneath the earth.
Instead, think of me when the earth gives life
to spring’s first flowers,
when summer rain fills the air
with the rich, sweet scent of earth and grass, leaf and tree.
Remember me when the sky is painted gold and red
at day’s beginning and at day’s end.
Think of me, remember me, and I will live on in you.
When my days are done,
don’t think of me beneath a marker of stone.
Instead, think of me in those moments when G-d’s grandeur
sweeps across the mountains and the oceans,
when the rare gift of a rainbow unfurls across the sky.
Remember me when you give birth to a new creation,
when you paint a piece of the world in your own colors,
when you give voice to a song, a poem, a prayer.
Think of me, remember me, and I will live on in you.
When I leave this world, weep only for a while,
then think of me when the trees turn,
when a gentle breeze brushes your cheek and tousles your hair as I once did.
Think of me when the snow dances in the arms of winter’s trees,
then wrap yourself in a soft, warm blanket and
remember the times I wrapped my arms around you and kept the cold away.
Remember the days we filled with love and laughter.
Remember the days marred by sorrow and tears.
Think of me, remember all the seasons we shared, and I will live on in you.
When I have left this earth,
don’t look for me in a silent field of stone.
Come, stand beneath night’s vast sky
as the moon parts the clouds and stars fill the heavens.
Remember when we would wish on night’s first star
and whisper “goodnight” to the moon.
When you gaze up at the starlit heavens,
remember, the light once mine still shines within you.
Think of me, remember me, and my light will shine on through you.
When my time has come,
don’t curse G-d for numbering our days,
for it is only the body whose days are numbered.
Don’t bid me farewell,
just whisper “I love you,”
then, look deep into the eyes of a child,
for it is there that my soul will find a new home.
Think of me, remember me, and my soul will live on in you
and in the generations yet to be.
