I grew up on a small family farm. There was always something to do and we all had our chores. In the evenings, though, things would wind down. One thing my mother liked to to was to sit out in front of our house and have her tea. The view was beautiful, there is a large hay field in front of our house, a harbour beyound the fields that the train tracks wound along, and a high tree lined ridge in the distance the the sun set behind.
My mother died of cancer.
The night before she died, I wrote her this poem.

The Calm of the Setting Sun

Come sit with me, out on the lawn
In the calm of the setting sun.
Relax, rest easy, enjoy the view
Your chores of life are done.
The air is still, the harbour's calm
And I know that we'll meet again.
Just as a whistle from a far off train
Is surely a sign of rain.
But until then, I'll miss you mom
And when every day is done.
I'll look to the west and think of you
In the calm of the setting sun.

It was cloudy the day of my mother's funeral.
After the buriel, we all met back at the farm.
As dusk came, my sister yelled out "The sun is setting!"
and we all found a window facing west.
As I was looking out a window in the room that my mother died in with one of my brothers we saw the cloud cover lift on the horizon. The sun then appeared between the horizon and the clouds and gave us a breathtaking sunset. The clouds then seemed to follow the sun as it set, making it overcast again. My dad then came up behind us, put his hands on our shoulders and said "Your mother just said goodbye, boys."