Gifts are something we always adore
Throughout the year it’s something we wait for
Given from those we love with our hearts
Bought from a store or made with the arts

There is one kind of gift that we receive with great dread
It’s the gifts we receive when our loved ones are dead
They bring back the memories of the struggle with life
The torment, the heartache, the hardship, the strife

My son now programs with your laptop each day
He turns challenging coding into child’s play
When I go to tuck him in every night
Your electric blanket warms him up right

The one thing that reminds me the most of you
Is those silly slippers that are like over-sized shoes
I remember lovingly taking them off of your feet
Each night when you would lie down for sleep

You feet got so bloated and yellow and sore
Normal shoes just could not fit anymore
Your spirit is trapped inside of these puffy shoes
I still cry when I dance at Academy of Muse

Curled up in the corner for the last song or two
Watching the beauty, the life of those who
Dance with great beauty and with great grace
My memory of you I hope to never erase

I’ll wear these slippers till the souls wear through
When I’m sick and I’m dying I hope my son will do
The hard thing, the right thing, that he’ll see me through
And lovingly take them off me, like I did for you

Everyday I pray only one prayer, most profound
That my son gets to bury ME in the ground