Precious memories of my Father.
The day our father died.
There was no thunder or lightning.
No previous night’s rain to bless the world he was leaving behind.
The day our father said goodbye to this world;
There was no group of friends and family around his bed.
No last kiss on his forehead or a hand to offer one last comforting squeeze.
The night our dad went to sleep for the last time;
He did not inform anyone that this would be the last goodnight.
That he would not wake up from one last dream.
Because you see, before our father died;
His smile had been the lightning to many a sad heart.
He always had a way to shock you out of your cocoon
His voice thundered with a hearty laugh;
That always followed one of his sly jokes.
He was a blessing to his children.
And he had a way of raining…
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