The heavens cried the day you died,
And time stood still in awe;
We knew nothing of the outside world
As sorrow hung upon us all.

You departed oh so suddenly,
Active 'til the day you died,
And never hinted of the time or call,
Nor paused to say good-bye.

Oh how can we, mere mortal souls,
Even try to understand,
Or accept as fate that this was wrought
By God's almighty hand?

And I, you said, am so like you,
We shared a common bond
Of love for words and food for thought -
How could you leave this for the world beyond?

We played chess 'til midnight
On nights too hot for sleep,
And talked of life and poetry
And of worldly matters deep.

For you, my father, were my friend,
My colleague with a pen;
And if I should be so much like you,
It is because from you I stem.

Now I think of restless nights
On nights too hot for sleep;
And wonder if I might awaken
As dawn upon me creeps -

To find that you are yet alive
(But you are in spirit indeed!);
Then I would come and visit you
And upon your wisdom feed.

Rest in peace, dear father,
'Tis a lonely road we all must tread;
For which God prepares us every night
As darkness swirls around our heads.

May you know no more the sorrows
Of a world of war and strife;
Nor of the sickness nor the sufferings
That plague our human lives.

So rest in peace, dear father,
Smile upon us as you go;
And I'll remember the wise old sage
Who taught me as I know.