As I sit here, broken hearted, asking God for reasons why,
He chose to take my father, wondering why he had to die.
I stop and look around me at those in pain like me,
And I understand the reasons, why these things are meant to be.

My dad was just a farmer, and he farmed almost for fun,
Sometimes that meant he got no sleep, until the job was done.
He loved to ride that tractor, and smell the earth, fresh turned,
He cherished every moment, the outdoor life for which he yearned.

He loved to watch his grandkids, always mindful for their care,
When they thought he wasn't looking, they'd turn around and he'd be there.
To catch them being grandkids, doing things he used to do,
To laugh and joke there with them, or to scold if it was due.

I was the middle one of five kids, and we found out long ago,
That our dad was someone special, of him, we're proud to know.
His love for us was endless, and his word was law it seemed,
And he led by good example, to talk back was just a dream.

Dad spoke and we would listen, it was clear to all of us,
When he was finished talking, God help the one to fuss.
Dad's law was meant to guide us, to keep us from harms way,
Now I'm glad I know it, my own kids hear it everyday.

These last few years have taught us more about this Dad of ours,
How he could live with so much pain, and still laugh with us for hours.
My Dad had an inner strength that came from Mom, I know,
And showed itself in many ways, oh how he loved her so.

Oh how he loved my mother, one could never question why,
All one needed was to watch him, you could see it in his eyes.
Each time that she walked near him, or gently touched his hand,
His eyes would start to twinkle, and right then you'd understand.

It was her, that kept him going, it was her, that made him proud,
It was her, that God intended, to make him stand out from the crowd.
And now I know the reasons, why God took him above,
His pain and suffering, gone at last, leaving his undying love.

My first taste of fishin',
Came long, long ago,
When I was but the young age of three.
We'd set on the bank,
Of our old fishin' hole,
When my grandpa went fishin' with me.

The wind gently rustled,
The leaves on the trees,
While the sun shone warm on my skin.
Then someone would holler,
Bobber gone down,
And grandpa let me pull him in.

But sometimes it would seem,
Like the fish weren't home,
And our worms had nothin' to fear.
But our time wasn't wasted,
'cause grandpa could tell,
The best stories that you'd want to hear.

How the river once flowed,
Deep, clear, and blue,
And the fish grew as long as your arm.
Why the birds in the trees,
Sing sweet melodies,
And how animals could weather a storm.

'bout the deer and the dove,
How it's sweet song of love,
Can bring tears to the eyes of a fool.
Oh the stories he'd tell,
You'd never learn quite as well,
If someone else tried to teach them in school.

But then time passed me by,
And I learned how to cry,
For my grandpa had since passed away.
Now I go back in my mind,
To a happier time,
When my grandpa would smile and he'd say.

Someday you'll be grown,
With grandkids of your own,
And you'll sit 'neath this old maple tree.
Thru my stories you'll tell,
'cause you've learned them quite well,
I'll be with you, so just wait and see.

Now I guess that I know,
What he meant when he said,
How fishin' can soothe a man's soul.
For there's no place on earth,
That I'd rather be,
Than down by that old fishin' hole.