At Sunrise

Through the night, his breathing was shallow and restful. There was no indication of discomfort as he lay there in his God-given coma, waiting on the angels to take him to be with the Father. Byron was near death by morning.

As I softly spoke to him, though he couldn’t respond verbally, he smiled a couple of times. He could hear me…he could understand. The room was quiet and peaceful as the shadows of night kept us company. Then, as the mornings sun’s rays filtered through the window, Byron breathed his last as the angels came to take him home. He was 59. In a moment, at sunrise, he was gone.

Happy 75th Birthday, Byron.

I love you and miss you…your favorite sister.

Fingerprints on Our Hearts

brosis1 - CopyA Tribute to Byron

There is no movement in the room.
Shadows hide the sense of gloom.
Darkness holds its sweet reward:
You left fingerprints on our hearts.

~

Life soon ebbs with shallow breath.
A Voice within says, “Come and Rest.”
Whispers like a gentle breeze:
You left fingerprints on our hearts.

~

Sun is rising; sky is clear,
Death is drawing ever near.
Angels here to take you home:
You left fingerprints on our hearts.

~

Goodbye dear one; your time has come.
Go with God at the rising sun.
Leaving us with our memories:
You left fingerprints on our hearts.

~~~

Copyright © 2011 LeRoy Dean All Rights Reserved

 

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3 responses to “At Sunrise

  1. very touching and beautiful. My dad died right at sunrise…on the wings of dawn. blessings.

  2. Reblogged this on Wordsmith's Desk and commented:
    Remembering Byron…

  3. Remembering you on your 75th…always in our hearts.

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