Bill's Memorial April 29, 2012

Remembering Bill
Join us for a celebration of Bill's life 
on his birthday ~ April 29, 2012

36 Hemlock Ave Newton NJ  07860

Starting at 12:00 noon

Please RSVP by April 20th to Cindy Foltyn at
973-670-3880

Bring your stories to share or share them on Bill’s memorial site. I would love it if you could make me copies of any pictures you may have or bring the originals so I can scan them while you are here. You can also email stories, memories, and pictures to billfoltyn@gmail.com or post them to Bill’s Facebook page: facebook.com/billfoltyn. We will have plenty of delicious food and good company. I Hope to see you! 



There Is No Death by J. L. McCreery



There is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some other shore,
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.

There is no death! The forest leaves
Convert to life the viewless air;
The rocks disorganize to feed
The hungry moss they bear.

There is no death! The dust we tread
Shall change, beneath the summer showers
To golden grain, or mellowed fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

There is no death! The leaves may fall,
And flowers may fade and pass away--
They only wait, through wintry hours,
The warm, sweet breath of May.

There is no death! The choicest gifts
That heaven hath kindly lent to earth
Are ever first to seek again
The country of their birth.

And all things that for growth or joy
Are worthy of our love or care,
Whose loss has left us desolate,
Are safely garnered there.

Though life becomes a desert waste,
We know it's fairest, sweetest flowers,
Transplanted into Paradise,
Adorn immortal bowers.

The voice of birdlike melody
That we have missed and mourned so long,
Now mingles with the angel choir
In everlasting song.

There is no death! Although we grieve
When beautiful, familiar forms
That we have learned to love are torn
From our embracing arms--

Photo: Bill on a mountain in Mexico
Photo: Uncle Bill's birthday hat by Meaghan Norman

Although with bowed and breaking heart,
With sable garb and silent tread,
We bear their senseless dust to rest,
And say that they are "dead,"

They are not dead! They have but passed
Beyond the mists that blind us here
Into the new and larger life
Of that serener sphere.

They have but dropped their robe of clay
To put their shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away--
They are not "lost" nor "gone."

Though disenthralled and glorified
They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
They never can forget.

And sometimes, when our hearts grow faint
Amid temptations fierce and deep,
Or when the wildly raging waves
Of grief or passion sweep,

We feel upon our fevered brow
Their gentle touch, their breath of balm;
Their arms enfold us, and our hearts
Grow comforted and calm.

And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear, immortal spirits tread--
For all the boundless universe
Is Life--there are no dead!




1 comment:

  1. Bill you have touched my life with your smile your mind heart. Sometimes you bestowed these gifts upon on those that may have lacked understanding But you always gave freely to whomever would listen. You have served your
    calling well and now it is our responsibility to use that which you have given us , to share with others. Sleep well my friend.
    In loving memory Uncle ed - Aunt sue


    "I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing,therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow human
    being let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not
    pass this way again."

    Stephen Grellet, 1773-1855
    French-born Quaker Minister

    -------

    We will meet again my friend,
    A hundred years from today
    Far away from where we lived
    And where we used to play.

    We will know each others' eyes
    And wonder where we met
    Your laugh will sound familiar
    Your heart, I won't forget.

    We will meet, I'm sure of this,
    But let's not wait till then...
    Let's take a walk beneath the stars
    And share 'this' world again.

    "Let's Not Wait"
    by Ron Atchison

    ReplyDelete

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