Son, it isn't right that you,
Should have died before your Pa;
Or that you should go to Heaven,
before your loving Ma.
But God knows best,
And He has taken you to be His own;
And now you sit beside Him,
on His gold encrusted throne.
We always thought that we would go,
Before our loving Son;
But you went first, before your life
had really just begun.
And so we mourn what may have been,
The promises denied.
We never will forget the
Fateful day that our Son died.
We'll celebrate your birthdays,
Although you won't be there;
And we'll mourn the passing years,
As we see your empty chair.
And one day, Son, you'll meet again,
Your loving Ma and Pa;
And we'll be united,
On that shinning heavenly star.
But till then we'll remember,
Each empty passing year;
How you brought joy and happiness,
And laughter, and a tear.
You made our lives complete,
And they're empty now you've gone.
But we never will forget you,
Our ever loving Son.
© 2010 Dick Underwood