THE LAST POST
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning.
We will remember them.– From “For the Fallen” by Laurence Binyon
A MEMORY BOUQUET
At the end of each year, major media outlets run feature stories listing notables and celebrities that have passed away during the year; stories that recount highlights of the person’s life. I’m two weeks late – but there’s a reason. This year’s list was long. Really long. And special. These people really were notable, but weren’t celebrities. They were not widely known … except to their families.
THROUGH THE DARK RECESSES
Sometimes memories connect through space and time linked to your own remembrances of the person. Memories of what you were doing at a certain time in your life, at a certain place.
OF TIME
Special memories randomly emerge from the dark recesses of time. You feel heaviness, a sense of loss, not only for the “notable person” or “celebrity” that you probably never met, but also for yourself. For the loss of time.
That time.
Your time.
THE LIST
Well, here’s my feature story.
My list.
It’s a little bit longer than the major media outlets would publish. Names of real people like Adam, Alberto, Christopher, Kevin, James, Jessica, Jose, Jonathan, Cwislyn, David, Timothy, Schuyler, Simone, Daniel, Raphael, Florence, Nelson, Stephen, Israel, Lance, Raul, Tyler, Omar, Christian, Esau, Rosyln …
THE LOVED AND LOST
… and on … and on … and horribly on.
Fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, wives, husbands, cousins, nephews, nieces, all.
NOT BY ACCIDENT
They passed on not by accident, not by bodily deterioration brought on by the mean ravages of time, but because they had a special job.
A job that ended a too-brief sojourn on this blue-green magical wonder called earth.
A job they chose.
SO COSTLY A SACRIFICE
They were American soldiers.
A step ahead.
A step behind.
A look left, instead of right.
Right, instead of left.
Up instead of down.
Down instead of up.
A blink of the eye at the wrong time.
And … it was over.
WHAT IS LIFE?
It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
– Crowfoot, Native American Blackfoot warrior and orator
The fleeting flash of a firefly in the night … gone.
But not.
THEIR EFFULGENT LIGHT …
… echoes eternally throughout the music of the spheres like heavenly bagpipes playing Amazing Grace … across the unfathomable unknowable on their way to The Last Post.
WHO WERE THESE FIREFLIES IN THE NIGHT?
Who were these shadows that ran across the grass riding a Sonata of Moonlight on an Ode to Joy – to living, giving and life?
WHO WERE THESE FIREFLIES IN THE NIGHT?
Who were these shadows that ran across the grass into the arms of an …
ANGEL
On the way to their …
LAST POST
Look.
BECAUSE WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN … WE WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THEM
Go.
Look.
Honor the Fallen
(or … http://www.militarytimes.com/valor/list.php?yr=2009&mo=1)
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Lessons Learned from Hollywood STORY Guru Robert McKee