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 52 years giving all we had Raised seven kids on that plot of land There’s still your loose change and your bu*tons on your washing stand You left one big house for this lonely man 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 All my shirt tails are wrinkled, and bed is still made Cause your smell still lingers on where you laid I hung up all your dresses and the dogs they’re doing fine I can’t remember the brand you used to buy Molly got her braces off and she smiles so big Davie is still as skinny as a whittled old twig 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 Jason and Margaret they’re expecting one more You’d be happy to know I fixed that cabinet door