this year was simply one that we could bear,
but almost naught was good as well you know.
for our own son we had no chance to care;
beloved Scott, we had to let him go.
the process through which God will put us now
will surely be for good at our own end.
that Good will triumph - true - but tell us how!
and that does aught to help our hearts to mend....
survive we will, and happy days will come,
e'en though we cannot see the light ahead.
this sorrow, fading slowly: throbbing drum -
it cannot follow everywhere we tread.
although we cannot see the good to come,
at least we have been tanned and hardened some.
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