What was it many years ago I said
By way of sorrow, love and gratitude
To my mother who lay dying in her bed
To thank her for the life she had pursued?
Whatever words they were, I know she knew
That we, her children, loved her for her care
And kindliness and dedication to
Our thriving, generous in equal share.
Too soon our father died, some years before,
Leaving her with two children still in school,
A doleful situation to deplore,
And yet solicitude was her first rule.
If there’s a heaven where loved ones re-meet,
She’ll be the first we children mean to greet.