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Yesterday he had a son to carry on his name,

From tender babe in booster chair to young man, all the same.

The apple of his mommy’s eye, as well he should so be,

Inheriting dad’s medals, from the war to keep men free.

So many plans, unspoken, were buried in dad’s heart.

He never knew that death would come and tear said two apart.

Kids grow up so quickly.  The clock refused to still.

His precious son went driving, met a drunk behind the wheel.

The city sees a lot of news, stories everyday,

That tell sad tales of someone else, but this one came to stay.

Never pass two minutes when he doesn’t grieve inside,

So many tears he often fears they're coming in like tide.

“Why?” he doesn’t dwell on, to keep his sanity,

But the heady scent of roses takes him back in mind to see

The chapel where they laid him and the gravesite now replete.

No namesake carries on for him, end to family tree.

He speaks at many functions, AA, and others too,

In hopes to keep some other heart from grief that he went through.

So, next time that you hear him—that man with tearful voice,

Remember his compassion.  In pain he made this choice.

He battles sorrow sadly, with all his earthly might,

With God beside him daily and his son always in sight.