That Fateful Morning

That fateful morning we said goodbye,

I never dreamed that you would die.

You are my child, my son, my friend,

I never thought our time would end.

I would have held you close to me,

Had I but known what was to be.

The anguish of my broken heart,

The knowledge that we must part.

Seeing you lying there, so quiet and still,

I thought to exercise my will,

And call you back, to keep you near,

It was not to be, that much was clear.

Your soul had flown to God above,

Who holds you close in His true love.

Now those of us left here below,

Must turn you loose and let you go.

James G. Dean, father of James B. Dean