silence

i heard just a little of the memorial service today at fort hood for the victims of the massacre last week. there were beautiful tributes, an address by the President and military rituals that bring dignity and honor to the grieving. what was the most profound to me though were not the words spoken, or the music or the ceremony, but the appropriate and poignant silence. during the service when the roll call was performed, soldier's voices called in from here and there. but then came the name of someone who died. then it was silence. only silence. a lifetime silence -  just a chilling absence of a familiar voice. it seemed the most complete way, maybe the only way, to honor a life - by allowing only the silence to speak.

in that strange emptiness were all those things that made each one beautiful and unique, frail and foolish and divine. in that moment a dozen mothers remembered the birth of their child and the first time they tumbled on the floor when learning to walk and their awkwardness when introducing their first date. fathers recalled the way they threw their head back when they laughed or how every time they got mad it was their grandmother's irish blood coming through. girlfriends and husbands remembered the sleepiness in their eyes in the morning light and the secrets and the promises they shared that no one else could possibly ever understand. children remembered the sound of their voice on the other end of the phone or how it felt to snuggle next to their warm body after a nightmare woke them during the night. fellow soldiers recalled their inability to remember jokes or their stubbornness or the fierce pride they took in wearing their uniform.

but i just heard exquisite silence. wordless honor. the stillest reverence. a life gone. and i imagined who they were and thought about who they would never be. maybe there is no really no other possible way. rest in peace.