Nancy L. Meek


Marine 2nd Lt. Therrel Shane Childers
2nd Lt. Therrel Shane Childers USMC
We now accept that life goes on,
that we won’t see our son again
come diddly-bopping down the road
in the physical, our gung-ho Shane.

It’s been hard since he’s been gone,
no more to climb our earthly heights,
to run barefoot on the riverbanks
and sleep outside on starry nights.

He will not ride another mule
nor trod the Appalachian green
nor read the latest in-depth book
on how to be the best Marine.

He won’t scale again Mount Shasta
for the fifth time, or the sixth,
nor jingle a sleigh across the snow
to feed our cattle in a fix.

Lest we spend our days in tears,
we faced the truth our son is gone,
that we’ll not watch him hop his bike
and peddle off to greet the dawn.

We’ll never hear his laughter deep
nor bounce his children on our knee,
for he died before they came along,
doing his best to keep us free.

We’ll choose to fill this gaping hole
his tragic death has gouged within,
with nothing but Shane’s goodness,
unless the wound should do us in.

We shall not scan the mountain peaks
and expect to see him through the haze,
staring down from the summit there,
for “up” to Shane, was the better gaze.

Author’s Note: This poem was inspired by comments made by Childers’ parents and others who knew him. The poem can also be found on a memorial page for Childers at: Fallen Heroes Memorial