Gone at fifty-nine

The sun was rising. The phone call came “you better get here to say goodbye “ fifty-nine years, it don’t feel fair, he left me alone in this world out there gone at fifty-nine

I love him, I hate him, for leaving so fast, for stealing the future and locking the past, I’m broken I’m angry but I still call him mine. How could he leave me at fifty-nine?

I love him for the man he taught me to be, but I hate the silence where his voice used to be. So much unsaid, so many mountains to climb I feel his laugh in the wind through the trees, gone at fifty-nine

We had plans for fishing down at the creek, stories to share words we didn’t speak. Now I’m staring at his chair empty and cold. Wishing for more of the man that I’ll never hold trying to grasp why he’s gone at fifty-nine

I love him, I hate him, for leaving so fast, for stealing the future and locking the past, I’m broken I’m angry but I still call him mine. How could he leave me at fifty-nine?

Some days I curse, some days I pray, caught in this tug-of-war everyday. I swing that hammer, but it doesn’t feel right building dreams he’s missing, a son left grieving, gone at fifty-nine

I love him, I hate him, for leaving so fast, for stealing the future and locking the past, I’m broken I’m angry but I still call him mine. How could he leave me at fifty-nine?