The people whom I would honor on Memorial Day are by definition insensitive to that very honor. They are the names graven on memorials, found on tombstones, even plaques in church. They did not sign up to embrace the death that came to them (and certainly not its manner), they went for the reasons we all take for big projects, that mix of idealism, hope, of helping your friends, and sometimes simply because some one told you to go.
Each was loved; each left a gap, a heartbreak; each was a possibility that stopped.
Each was particular, growing up in a house, on a block, down the street; each had a home.
No matter how long the list of names, they are not a statistic. In our remembered loss we find a vision to see anew each of the living as loved, particular, next door.