Sunday, November 8, 2009


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We will remember

Weird end to a lovely day.

I've copied this from an email to a friend, because I couldn't write it all out again. I should have been in bed an hour ago.

"Apparently on Friday night it was noticed that during "Don't Stop Me Now!" I cried like a girl. Yeah yeah, I got over it and busted some phat moves (see my modern spelling!) but I did. Stacy is a bouncer at Heights where we went, and was working Saturday night. She got asked if I was ok by a friend of hers who was working Friday night. Stacy explained about the accident, the song, the whole enchilada to her, and to her boyfriend, who is also a bouncer at Heights. Turns out 2+2=4.

Stacy's mates boyfriend (still with me?) is a First Responder. Rich was his first fatality. He was desperately trying to tell Stacey that he did everything he could for Rich, that he tried everything he knew, and he couldn't save him. Now, to you and me, who know the details, this is not news. Nothing short of divine rewinding of the whole morning could have saved Rich, and that just hasn't happened. Apparently he's up and down all over the place, not sleeping and so on, always convinced he could have done *something* more and Rich would have been ok.

So I've suggested that she tell Stacey to tell her friend to tell her boyfriend that a) he's welcome to come round and see me and I'll tell him about the accident and that there was nothing he could do from about the time Rich left the bike, and b) see if he can make it to the inquest - it's a public event - and hear the nurses statement for himself."

So yeah.

Weird end to the day.

I didn't email the She-Ex today. I would have found it hard to phrase things properly, and I don't want to antagonise her at the moment. I don't need it. I just need to work a few things out.

For the Fallen

The words that are used in the Act of Remembrance all over the world today come from this poem. The AC and I also like the last verse. Whilst it speaks a lot about things that they will not do, it gives hope at the end, of a life eternal, of light in our darkness and a reunion.

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.