In His Hands

I recall it rained on your first morning.

The skies are doing something similar now, as if to express your grief at the approach of your own departure.

I observe you but do I listen? I'd like to think that I've done what's humanly possible for me to be with you, even if it's just a tip of the iceberg and He blesses it -- I'll be glad.

It's all in His hands now.
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Mornings will never be the same without you.