December fourth in desert light, Saudi sun, too harsh, too bright. A sudden turn, a shattered day, And everything we knew gave way. So far from home, so far away, Under foreign skies you lay. Three daughters learned to pray For morning to find a better way.
Miles of sand and sea between, The longest winter we had seen. We held our breath through every night, Believing in your strength to fight.
You were our Ironman, strong and true, No race too long for you to push through. But this was a road we couldn’t see, No markers set, no guarantee. Still we believed your heart would lead, Across the sky, across the sea. Even broken, even scarred, You fought for home, you fought so hard.
January skies, an engine’s cry, Air ambulance against the night. Flying you home to England’s shore, Back to the life you built before. Triathlon heart, forged in flame, An Ironman, not just in name. You were the compass of our lives, Yet love was always your greatest guide.
Hospital halls and whispered hope, Teaching three girls how to cope. You showed us strength beyond the race, In quiet courage, in fragile grace.
You were our Ironman, brave and bright, Swimming through the longest night. Cycling miles through pain and fear, Holding on while we stayed near. Though April sixteenth closed your eyes, It couldn’t steal your sacrifice. The finish line came far too fast, But your love was built to last.
If heaven has wide open roads, No desert heat, no heavy loads, I see you running, strong and free, The man you were, restored, at peace. And when spring rain falls in England air, I feel your strength still standing there. Not defined by the day you fell, But by the way you loved so well.
You were our Ironman, fierce and kind, Power in your stride, kindness in your soul. Father of three who still carry you, In everything we say and do. From Saudi sands to English rain, Through every mile of love and pain, Until I see your face again, Beyond where earth and heaven roam, I’ll follow love’s unbroken line, And let it guide me home.