When your father dies, say the Irish,
you lose your umbrella against bad weather.
May his sun be your light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Welsh,
you sink a foot deeper into the earth.
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Canadians,
you run out of excuses.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Native Americans,
he comes back as the thunder
May you inherit his light, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the British,
you join his club you vowed you wouldn't.
May you inherit his sun, say the Armenians.
When your father dies, say the Armenians,
your sun shifts forever
and you walk in his light.
Missing you dad, but looking forward to shifting the sun and inheriting your light.
Jon van den Steen Arthur June 27, 1943-August 16, 2012
(sorry all I have on my computer is a silly picture, but its nice to remember him as being this way)
