Kat, thanks for the comment - but I don't feel it's entirely mine. It drew on another source.
When I read Swofford's piece, I was deeply impressed with his style, as well as the content, and felt glad that he had been spared to become such a writer. And then wondered how many other mute inglorious Swoffords had fallen in the sand last time. On both sides. We talk too loosely of loss of life, without thinking of the loss of mind, of all the little things the fallen would have done, the bright mornings they would have woken to, the snow they would have cleared, the smiles they would have exchanged across the breakfast table, the jewelled spider web they might have observed, the cups of coffee they would have savoured...all the minutiae of life that will not come again. Maybe there are books lost, art lost, songs lost: there are also letters to loved ones lost, post-it notes telling of love, each life gone as valuable as Swofford's.

Penny