Oh Mom, I miss you something fierce,
An advocate whose love did pierce,
Through any doubts, through any lows,
And seeds of confidence you sowed.
Your words of wit and wisdom bloomed,
And never could we then presume,
What sentiments you would exhume
From deep within your thought-filled rooms.
How easy it could have been to brood,
But girding you we understood
Was strength that evermore withstood,
Ignore the pain, embrace the good.
Oh, mother dear, my writer’s ear,
Is listening close and what I hear,
Are echoes of your hope so clear,
That leave me yearning you be near.
To tend our gardens, feed our hearts,
To sing your songs, to be a part,
Of every day, and thus impart,
We look towards sunshine, not the dark.
And now we lovingly do bid, goodbye sweet Ann for all you did,
Enough for volumes unabridged, woven with your endearing wit,
Our hope therefore for you is this, that heavens’ gates to you reveal,
An undulating future joy, in peace may now your heart be sealed.