Not the first funeral, but the first of this kind.

Like a river’s flow tears down my face, you’ll find.

It’s hard to swallow, the grief too strong inside.

I wish that I had somewhere to run away and hide.

No sound of laughter, no hugs of warm embrace.

No music was playing, and no smiles were seen in this place.

This funeral is one I’ll remember because of who it is for.

And at that thought, even years later, my heart aches even more.

I’ve been to funerals for family members in the past.

And the years since then have gone by so fast.

But time slowly ticks by, not knowing they’re gone.

Yet in my heart, they’ll always live on.

This funeral is hard because of who, but I would get through.

I know I’m still guided by the spirit of the passed on toward a grander view.

Not my first funeral, but the first of this kind.

And as I continue through life, my father’s influence you will find.