There are no goodbyes.
Just a long exhalation, then a sigh.
A sigh of peace, a sigh of grief.
A sigh of guilty relief.
Relief that you let go.
Relief that you went gently into the night.

Selfish is death as it steals your breath,
and takes ours away in grief.
But memory is kind it rose colours our mind,
and allows us to be left behind.

You'll always be our best memory
You'll always be at your best
You'll always be at rest,
and we left behind will always be bereft.

But there are no "good"byes
Just tears to cry
A life to dignify
And the question Why?

I never said goodbye dad, always "see you later".
Goodbye is too final, and love never dies.
There isn't a full stop, and the clocks still tick then tock.
While we children still breathe, half of you never leaves.
Good or bad, perfect or flawed, you are always our dad.