It seems that time really flies
Soon it will be December
Brightly lit trees and children's sighs
Happy days we would love to remember

The clock stopped on December 25th
A curtain fell-a candle lost it's flame
Our hearts were shattered
Christmas is not the bright holiday of the past

No longer do Christmas decorations adorn our home
Grief lingers over every room
Sorrow fills our minds
Anticipation is for it to "just be over."

You see, our son died on Christmas night.
His children do not remember him
and we can not forget
the late night call and the pain it brought.

At forty-one he drove his truck into a field
and there with a gun he took his life.
I don't know if he thought of us
or of anyone particular

His own pain must have seemed insurmountable
A beautiful man's life wasted
Never again will he have December
nor will ours be the same.