I don't know if I can let it go
My fingers clenched white as snow
You packed your world in a wooden suitcase
What you left behind time can't erase
We spent fifty-two years giving all we had
Raised seven kids on that plot of land
There's still your loose change and your buttons on your washing stand
You left one big house for this lonely man
Well, I miss holding your hands on Sunday
Talking over the TV
Watching the Braves games
And I know that the good Lord called you up yonder
I guess what they say is true
'Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
I found your old cook books but the biscuits ain't right
And how do you work this damn coffee pot
And all my shirt tails are wrinkled, and bed is still made
'Cause your smell still lingers on where you laid
And I hung up all your dresses and the dogs they're doing fine
But I can't remember the brand you used to buy
And Molly got her braces off and she smiles so big
Davie is still as skinny as a whittled old twig
And I miss holding your hands on Sundays
Talking over the TV
Watching the Braves games
And I know that the good Lord called you up yonder
I guess what they say is true
'Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
Well I miss holding your hands on Sundays
Talking over the TV
Watching the Braves games
And I know that the good Lord called you up yonder
I guess what they say is true
'Cause your absence makes this weary heart grow fonder
And Jason and Margaret they're expecting one more
You'd be happy to know I fixed that cabinet door