Doug
Her hand reached out with tender care
And lovingly she stroked his hair.
"I washed this so many times," she cried.
What could we say? Her son had died.
We came together to say goodbye.
We prayed, we laughed, and then we cried.
Co-workers, friends, and his family were there
So many gathered together to share
The sorrow, the anguish, the loss, the pain,
The hurt to know they'll not see him again.
So many lives he had touched, her son.
What he had left behind, though only twenty-one.
"The best, the greatest; a guy like no other."
They called him their friend, they called him their brother.
To see the shared hurt on so many faces,
Spanning all ages - spanning all races,
Confirmed her wish that what she had done
Was to do a good job raising her son.
And in the years ahead that stretch out so long
That very knowledge will keep her strong.
She did her best and, though he died young,
What a man he was - her child, her son.
His place with God in the Heavens above
Is assured by all of this earthly love.
Someday she'll join him, as will we all -
When its our time we'll answer that call.
We'll find him there teaching angels to line dance.
We'll tease him once more about being called Lance.
He'll make droll jokes with such a straight face -
We'll be happy together in that Blessed Place.
Until then we pray for God's help to go on -
To make the time not seem quite so long.
We'll accept but not really understand -
We're always going to miss you, our own Za Man.
Copyright © Laurie J. Crist, 1996
