It’s so hard to give away their things
And make the old home so bare;
So quiet you strain to hear the echo
Of the happy times had there.
We put away old photographs
Of their young and smiling faces;
But, keep them in the album of our heart.
That’s where their rightful place is.
“I’ll have this” and “I’ll have that.”
Say the youngsters so uncaring.
Who have no idea how hard to get
Were the precious things you’re sharing.
Things are often said so hurtful,
Sometimes so hard to forget.
It’s usually just because they’re young;
And haven’t lost a parent yet.
And, we must pause and remember,
We hold the real treasure in our heart
Of all the loving, happy times
Of which we were a part.
And rest our minds that Heaven’s their home,
Where we’ll soon be together again.
And all those things will be left behind;
They won’t even be a memory then.
"Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me." - John 14:6