Most people grow up and learn about life
Every step of the way.
They learn how to do the things that are good,
And change what they see that is not.
For some of us, though, things can go wrong.
And we find we learned nothing at all.
The past is just lost in a dark, cloudy fog,
And we can’t see a way to escape.
But if we’re lucky we find someone to help
And they teach us just what we need.
Not by explaining or drawing a chart.
But just by the way that they live.
How to be honest and how to be brave
And how to be loyal and strong.
But that wouldn’t have happened to me in my life.
If it wasn’t for you.
So I’m writing this poem to give you my thanks
For making me who I am.
And I’ve made up a rule I’ll recite every day:
To never forget what you taught.
“Oh, my, Han. It rocks. Just beautiful.”
“You like it?”
“Really.” Parker hugged the girl.
Hannah stared at the page and then asked in a soft voice, nearly a whisper, “Do you think he’ll hear it?”
Shaw asked, “ ‘He’?”
“Yeah, my dad. You know, who I wrote it for.”
Oh...
“I’m going to read it at his memorial service. You believe in that kind of stuff, Mr. Shaw?”
“What?”
“You know, that he might be there at the church? Like a ghost? I saw this show on TV, that spirits sometimes hang around after we pass. So we can say goodbye.”