Lori Piestewa; Not Forgotten

After giving her family ample time to grieve then waiting some more for what I hoped would be a tidal wave of condolences to ebb then awhile longer for general principles I wrote a letter of condolence to the Piestewa family to ensure them that  Lori’s passing was not forgotten and would not be for some to many folks.

Oh yes. Lori’s children, family and loved ones will never forget but the general public not immediately impacted; it is reality for that which doesn’t immediately affect us to recede in one’s memory.

This posting is here to assist in preserving Lori Piestewa’s memory and to remind her family Lori IS remembered.

Another, albeit minor reason is to thank the Piestawa’s for the post card they sent me in response to my letter to them.

It is shown on this posting; the front and a portion of the rear that has private information cropped off.

The postal stamp is dated July, 2004 so I have treasured it since it arrived seven years ago.

If you have trouble reading the poem upon the card a Web search led to this:

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.

Google has a large number of “hits” and is a worthy trek for those seeking more information and various accolades given Lori.

I noted her birth place; Tuba City AZ.

US Highway 160 is nearby. I wonder if she ever heard my semi-truck roar by as I used that route frequently as a “backwoods” way to enter southwest Colorado, crawl up and down Wolf Creek Pass and work my way northward to Denver and various other places to the north and east.

Was Lori one of the little kids waving when I passed through again in the mid-1980s?

Maybe.

I remember the excited jumping when the kid’s hand-pumping gesture to engage the air horn led to a quick toot that met their desires without excessively disturbing the serenity of the wind-blown land.

I will never know if my actions were experienced by Lori but I can hope so.

If not; my thoughts sent outwards; into the spirit realm, are akin to a horn toot; in recognition of Lori’s existence and this post is another way to do that– and to recognize Lori’s family and their existence and to thank them for the post card they sent to me.

It is on my desk at this moment and I have decided it needs a frame and hung upon the wall.

It was safe within its desk drawer but just as safe behind glass for all who enter the shanty can see it.

Lori.. you are NOT forgotten and may your spirit roam where it wills, gently wafting through the air and alighting wherever you desire.

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