He was lying, motionless on the bed,

Tubes extending from his nose and head.

And even in sleep, he was troubled by the pain.

Dad, ..."Don", ...I stood over and whispered his name,

Not wishing to wake him, but afraid not to try,

Not wanting to show him the tears in my eyes.

And on that dark afternoon, rain falling outside,

I lowered my head and I tried not to cry.

I whispered a prayer, though my faith was quite small,

but I trusted that G-d had a plan for it all.

He opened his eyes and he reached for my hand,

And oddly enough he was wearing a band.

A ring he was told that he just could not wear.

"I'm going" he whispered, "And she will be there."

And he glanced at his finger, and offered a wink,

And honestly, I did not know what I to think.

I was somehow relieved, but quite saddened too.

But my father knew this, he knew what to do.

He hummed very softly my childhood's night prayer,

That he'd heard mothering singing when she was still here.

I could not hold back, now, the tears down my face.

But I knew he was going to a much better place.

Learn more about this author, Ginger Betzer.
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