What My Father Might Say
I missed you my son, where have you been?
What is it, 3 or 4 years to the day?
How are you doing and how are the kids?
Why haven’t you come up this way?
Well, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.
I’m happy you came here for me.
I remember those days, not too many would go by,
that you would always be by, to see me.
Remember that lake at the bottom of the hill,
the one where you first learned to swim?
I was thinking, how the kids would love to be there.
Come back here next week and throw them in.
I need all that laughter to brighten my day,
as staying here is dark, dreary and bleak.
It’s really family I’m after and friends that will stay,
why don’t you come back here next week?
I know I’m not much of a talker these days,
but it surely is nice when you’re here.
Please stay a bit longer the next time you come,
because each time you come it brings cheer.
Tell your mother I love her, but she already knows,
and tell Pat and the kids I love them, too.
But, most of all Michael, as you stand by my grave,
I want to say, “Son, I’m so proud of you.”
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