Remembering Ricki Stahl

Ricki Stahl was a familiar face around the Stahls’ headquarters in St. Clair Shores, Michigan and kind to all she knew. Please remember to spread the gift of kindness as we remember Ricki on the first anniversary of her passing on Oct. 29th.

October 29th marks the one year anniversary of the passing of our beloved mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister, and aunt Ricki Stahl.  It’s still hard to believe sometimes. With all the family photos and company memorabilia in my office, I find myself reflecting back on the past almost daily and being thankful that my parents were able to contribute so much to the foundation on which the GroupeSTAHL companies are built. As a co-founder, Ricki was a big part of the success of Stahls’ and she was always so proud of all the people along the way who helped make it happen. She was a familiar face to many in St. Clair Shores and she had many friends. It goes without saying that she is deeply missed by our family, but we remember her in happy ways whenever we do something that she loved, such as playing backgammon, or Scrabble or enjoying a delicious plate of freshly shucked oysters. Sorrow is not forever, LOVE is. And it’s true that the love Ricki felt for all of us lives on in our hearts and our fond memories. We are thankful, and we are all thinking of you Mom.

Here is a poem that was written in 1932 by Mary Frye. There are several different versions of the poem online, attributed to different authors and even a version made popular as a Hopi Indian prayer. They are all beautiful but supposedly this version is the closest to the original so I chose to share this one here. It is exactly how Ricki would want us all to remember her.

 

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Frye 1932

 

 

 

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