America's Son
by Janilou
by Janilou
This article appeared in the Guttenberg Press as a guest
column, shortly after Stephen Shannon was killed in Iraq
on January 31st, 2007. It is dedicated with love to his
parents, Dan and Joan Shannon and to their family, and
to Stephen, pictured at right.
column, shortly after Stephen Shannon was killed in Iraq
on January 31st, 2007. It is dedicated with love to his
parents, Dan and Joan Shannon and to their family, and
to Stephen, pictured at right.
Anyone who knows me knows I live in dread of The Knock. When your twenty-one-year-old son is in Iraq, this
becomes your living nightmare. When a soldier is killed, two Army officers and a chaplain come to your door.
We live just out of a small country town and our driveway is long. When an unexpected visitor arrives, I don't
breathe until I see it is not the Army coming to call.
Kind hearted people tell me my son, Dan, is just as safe over there as he is here. They remind me of events
such as car accidents that can take peoples lives and say, "You just never know."
They are trying to reassure and comfort me and I appreciate their hearts.
The reality is I continue to live in dread and fear of The Knock.
Three days ago, The Knock came to Guttenberg, but not at my door. It came to my neighbor’s home. Their
twenty-one-year-old son, Stephen Daniel Shannon, had just been killed in Iraq.
Stephen went to school with my son, Dan. My other children played with his younger siblings while my
husband worked next door to their home. His father is our pharmacist. His mother and I did not know each
other personally but twenty-one years ago we both gave birth to our sons and we did not raise our sons to
lose them in a foreign war. Nothing can prepare you for this event. Our hopes and dreams for our children do
not include a reality such as this.
When I heard the news of Stephen’s death, I felt as though I’d been sucker-punched. I wept. I want to go visit
his mother, put my arms around her and cry with her. I will do that. Right now, there are many people around
them, offering comfort and trying to help. I pray I will go there when I’m needed the most.
Well meaning people have said to me they imagine I'm glad it wasn’t my son, Dan. I’m not. Right now I can’t
be glad about much of anything. Don’t you see? I don’t want to lose Dan, but I didn’t want them to lose
Stephen either. It might seem strange to you but I do feel as though I have lost a son. Stephen Daniel
Shannon was an American Soldier. He was America’s son, therefore he was my son too.
Our local K.C.R.G. on-line newspaper article states: "Stephen Daniel Shannon: More than just a Soldier."
They tell us he is the fifty-first Iowa soldier to die in Iraq. They speak of his sense of humor and how he loved
his friends and family. He wanted to help people. He died trying to help the Iraqi people. He was an American
hero who always had a smile on his face.
Yes, Stephen Daniel Shannon was more than just a soldier.
He was our son.
becomes your living nightmare. When a soldier is killed, two Army officers and a chaplain come to your door.
We live just out of a small country town and our driveway is long. When an unexpected visitor arrives, I don't
breathe until I see it is not the Army coming to call.
Kind hearted people tell me my son, Dan, is just as safe over there as he is here. They remind me of events
such as car accidents that can take peoples lives and say, "You just never know."
They are trying to reassure and comfort me and I appreciate their hearts.
The reality is I continue to live in dread and fear of The Knock.
Three days ago, The Knock came to Guttenberg, but not at my door. It came to my neighbor’s home. Their
twenty-one-year-old son, Stephen Daniel Shannon, had just been killed in Iraq.
Stephen went to school with my son, Dan. My other children played with his younger siblings while my
husband worked next door to their home. His father is our pharmacist. His mother and I did not know each
other personally but twenty-one years ago we both gave birth to our sons and we did not raise our sons to
lose them in a foreign war. Nothing can prepare you for this event. Our hopes and dreams for our children do
not include a reality such as this.
When I heard the news of Stephen’s death, I felt as though I’d been sucker-punched. I wept. I want to go visit
his mother, put my arms around her and cry with her. I will do that. Right now, there are many people around
them, offering comfort and trying to help. I pray I will go there when I’m needed the most.
Well meaning people have said to me they imagine I'm glad it wasn’t my son, Dan. I’m not. Right now I can’t
be glad about much of anything. Don’t you see? I don’t want to lose Dan, but I didn’t want them to lose
Stephen either. It might seem strange to you but I do feel as though I have lost a son. Stephen Daniel
Shannon was an American Soldier. He was America’s son, therefore he was my son too.
Our local K.C.R.G. on-line newspaper article states: "Stephen Daniel Shannon: More than just a Soldier."
They tell us he is the fifty-first Iowa soldier to die in Iraq. They speak of his sense of humor and how he loved
his friends and family. He wanted to help people. He died trying to help the Iraqi people. He was an American
hero who always had a smile on his face.
Yes, Stephen Daniel Shannon was more than just a soldier.
He was our son.
