May
30, 2016
Greetings
from where I remember,
In
most towns I have passed through I have found memorials to those who have died
in war. I have seen simple plaques to elaborate brass vignettes, from rough
cairns adorned with flags to towering granite with detailed carvings. Some are in the town square, others on the
edge of graveyards, or in parks where people can sit and think about what they
are remembering.
Large
cities, it seems, must try harder. The statues
must stand taller than the bustling crowd, the obelisks compete with the
skyscrapers, there must be more flags in order to show up among the neon and
billboards.
I’ve
stood at the edge of Arlington, awed by the silent rows of white reminders. I have been in gardens built to surround a
single stone with the name of a lost son.
Some memorials are medals, some are parades, some are speeches. Some are empty chairs at empty tables.
I
have stood in front of the Vietnam Wall in D.C. on more than one occasion. Each time is meaningful; seeing the names,
the sheer size of the monument, feeling the coldness of the marble, being below
the lip of the earth with the heroes’ memories.
But
the last time I was there I realized something new. I watched the people step up to find the name
they wanted, touching it. And there in
the black/grey surface I could see the reflection of the living imposed on the
engraved names of the lost. I could see
us in the Wall.
The
word ‘eulogy’ is from the Greek meaning ‘praise’. The eulogy is meant to describe someone’s
life, to recall the best of them, share it with those who cared about them, and
those who might have wanted to know them. We are given this glimpse of them, sometimes
heartbreaking sometimes uplifting. In grieving
we console one another, we smile or cry, and we pledge to remember who we lost. They are never gone as long as they are
remembered. The eulogy is a spoken
memorial, words and images that settle on the listener and engrave a person’s
life there.
If
we accept the responsibility we are given as survivors, we become living
eulogies for those who have passed. We
carry forward the best of them, share it with others, and live it ourselves in
our own way.
Gardens
become overgrown. Leaves gather around
plaques. Statutes crumble. Engravings become worn. Flags fade.
It is only the people who will outlast time; it is us, the living
eulogies. It is our role to carry the
stories forward so that the fallen are never forgotten.
I
saw us in the Wall. We are the
memorials. This is the day when we are
reminded of that charge. Sweep the dust from the engraving, polish the surface
of the brass, wipe the smudges from the marble.
Carry the memory of the heroes out into this day and the next, and give
them the honor they are due.
Hope
this finds you telling their story,
David
Copyright
© 2016 David Smith
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