What I don’t want this to be is a chance for me, or anyone else, to be maudlin. I’m dead. That sucks, at least for me and my family and friends. But all the tears in the world aren’t going to bring me back, so I would prefer that people remember the good things about me rather than mourning my loss. (If it turns out a specific number of tears will, in fact, bring me back to life, then by all means, break out the onions.)
Sometimes, it’s easy to get lost in the numbers. Yes, close to 4,000 Americans have died in Iraq. Outside of the debate over what they died for (and I would submit to you that their lives were wasted by a corrupt, venal President and a weak, gutless, enabling Congress), each of those 4,000 lives lost represent a story that has come to a close far too soon. Each number represent a life that will not be lived, potential that will not be met, children who will not be raised, love that will not be made. Thinking about the craven, self-interested murder (I can think of no better way to describe it) of so many who dreamed only of serving their country fills me with an almost unbearable sadness. So many have died so young…and for no valid discernible reason.
I find myself ruminating on this because of the death of MAJ Andy Olmsted, who was recognized as one of the most prolific and insightful military bloggers in Iraq. Olmsted’s last post was something he wrote (and last updated in July) with the instructions that it would only be posted to his blog in the event of his death.
Olmsted asked in his post that his death not be used to further the reader’s political purposes, so I will honor that wish by stopping what could easily become even more of an anti-war diatribe than it already is. I’m saddened that Olmsted will not get to experience what his life could have been, but he made it clear that he died doing something he loved…and how many of us will ever be able to say that?
I’ve always believed that the hallmark of a life well-lived is in the imprint one leaves on those left behind. In the case of MAJ Andy Olmsted, I’d have to say “job well done”. His family and loved ones will celebrate his life and his memory, and then they’ll move on, simply because that’s the nature of the cycle of life. In the end, we all leave feet first. Would that all of us can leave so many smiles on so many faces as MAJ Olmsted managed during the course of his all-too-brief sojourn here.
