Aunty, i chose that poem and the vicar read it at my daughters funeral, at her graveside, it was slightly different..........
Do not stand at my grave and weep
i am not here i do not sleep
i am the thousand winds that blow
i am the diamond glint on snow
i am the sunlight on ripened grain
i am the soft autumnal rain
i am the stars that shine at night
do not stand at my grave and cry
i am not here i did not die
at the point where the vicar said "i am the thousand winds that blow" a great gust of wind came from nowhere and blew his white frock up over his head, if it hadn't been so awful watching him struggling to get it off it would have been funny