winter brings with it a muffled heaviness. i know i've been personally ruminating on death a little too much lately, but it is especially heartbreaking when it happens out of rhythm - unexpected - out of time.
my childhood friend sarah had an older brother named daniel, who was killed in afghanistan this week. i knew her well - we were camp buddies, church buddies, locker neighbors, and had a joint sweet 16 birthday party together. her mom, jill, was my sunday school teacher for years and was a gentle, soft-spoken woman. daniel was always the cool older brother, flitting in and out of the pictures my memory took of her house and friendship. but they were devoted siblings, closer than a lot of sister/brother duos. she followed in the footsteps he stamped out in front of her.
hearing of his death was a surreal shock this week. i've been impressed by the outpouring of compassion for his family. i've read a lot of comments and articles about him this week. and just as soon as i start to prepare a rant about the foolishness of another good soul lost to this ridiculous war, i read a quote from another soldier. a soldier who said that daniel died doing something he loved. and he died for something he believed in.
this made me stop.
he died doing something he loved. and he died for something he believed in. this does not negate the sadness, or make his death easier for his loved ones to cope with. but how many of us will end life like that? how many of us will live out our dreams and our beliefs to the point that we will die doing what we love, for something we believe in? it is an admirable way to live your life, and people around you will never forget it. i think there is only one thing to say in the shadow of a life like that: Well done.
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