The Night Before His Surgery

I wrote this poem shortly before my oldest son's surgery.  His surgery was routine and went very well.  However, I could not help but think of all the father's who have sat at their son's bedside the night before their surgery's, many of them facing problems much more serious than my son faced.  Enjoy.

The night before his surgery

I sat on my son's bed.

He was too young to recognize

his father's growing dread.

Reaching up and smiling at me,

his eyes so clear and blue,

I took him in my arms and squeezed,

uncertain what to do.

The night before his surgery

my heart trembled with fright.

I could think of naught but the end,

and so I held him tight.

So young and precious was my boy,

with so much more to see,

I couldn't fathom what I'd do

if he were lost to me.

We lived in ease, quite comfortable, 

and many knew my name.

The night before his surgery, 

that did not mean a thing.

We never lacked for friends throughout,

encouragement we heard.

The night before his surgery,

they were just empty words.

I did the only thing I knew

could bring me some relief.

I spoke to my Father up above,

while shaking like a leaf.

I can't recall the words I used,

I often wish I could.

The night before his surgery,

God heard and understood.

The night after his surgery

I clung to my son's hand, 

thanking my Father up above,

upon whose love I stand.