Poem for a Farmer’s Funeral

I’m the proud daughter of a farmer. I wrote this poem in honour of my dad, Andy (1951–2026), and read at his memorial service in March 2026.

Rising early with the sun,
Coffee quick, then work’s begun.
Engine starts and gravel sprays
As off you went to farm each day.

You were my dad, man of the soil,
Hands roughened by a life of toil,
Working from your early days,
From your own dad having learned the ways.

Took planting season as it came,
With not enough or too much rain.
Weather watching with a frown—
It’s up to Mother Nature now.

Through each cycle, though the years,
Farm life brought both joy and tears.
In turn, we three kids were born,
Spent summers playing in the corn.

To friends and neighbours you lent a hand,
Working together to tame the land.
Filled up wagons, barns, and bins—
Harvest rush before winter begins.

So many seasons passed somehow;
Grandchildren run through the fields now.
You’d call them for a tractor ride
And show them what you’d built with pride.

Now day starts, but there’s no coffee brewed.
Suddenly our farm is missing you.
Engine quiet, the truck stays parked—
You’re gone from the land, but not our hearts.

You planted seeds whose roots grew deep,
And what you sowed is what we reap.
Keep watch on your farm from above;
Your final harvest is one of love.

–Aimee Gavin