Burying Dad

Tomorrow I have to bury my father
And the weather man says it will rain.
Every year from tomorrow onwards,
Marked by the loss of a memory,
By the shovelling of earth into grave,
The reminder of someone being lost,
Will fade.

I believe he struggled with greatness
While choosing tasks that were small.
That he taught us a life worth living,
Up to the very last point.
And that even in my family's torments,
My father, somehow, found equal joy.

He leaves before him, not behind,
A proud daughter, a proud son.
A wife, whose love transcends
Those both.

If I cannot learn from this man,
Let there be no other.
If moments, not time judged us,
Then my father would have lived forever.

But my voice will not quake in anger,
Or quiver in grief. It will be calm.
Because tomorrow I bury my father,
And, since it can be no other way,
Let his passing be a reminder,
Not of things sad but of things great;
Of sound, not of silence
Of light, not of dark
Of love, not of hate
And of life, not of death.