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Most Recent Reflection
I often think of you this time of year. I drove past the memorial just last weekend, coming back from Cape Cod. There were fresh flowers; they looked beautiful. That stretch of Rte. 3 near Exit 9 has changed a lot! But I still can't believe it's been 17 years.
I worked the eve shift out of D-7 the night before. And I still wonder at how I many times I made stops close to or at the very spot where you fell, which is where our barracks patrol areas overlapped. I was just a boot then, not even one year out of the Academy, and only knew you to nod hello. But your reputation among your peers, including among my classmates assigned to D-1, was phenomenal. You were everything a Trooper should be, on-duty and off. This is not an exaggeration. This is not some notion that developed after we lost you. It was the truth. When I think today, as a middle-aged man, of what you would have accomplished personally and professionally, I am again filled with sorrow.
We helped cover the D-1 patrols over the next few days. It was Saturday or Sunday evening, I can't remember exactly, and I was called off Rte 3 and sent to your home. A lieutenant was waiting for me, with a garment bag. I was instructed to deliver it to another home, a couple towns away. What I was being ordered to do was deliver your dress uniform - the one you were to be buried in - to the home of your parents. I'm sure it was a just a matter of chance I drew that duty. But I felt honored to perform it, and still feel honored today.
I must add that many times I questioned, in my mind, whether your sacrifice was worth it. This question preyed on me, even after I left the MSP several years later for a corporate job, during the "internet boom." It's a decision I came to regret, for a lot of different reasons; such is life.
But over time, maybe unrelated to this sense of regret, maybe not, I learned the answer to my question. And that is that of course your sacrifice was not in vain. It doesn't matter that the muff goes on breathing, and may someday get out, or that some other muff will inevitably come along instead. Nor does it really matter how fat our bank accounts may grow or how big a house we might own or what kind of car we drive. What matters are those you love and who love you back. You had no shortage of either, and you gave everything to protect them. And that is the highest thing a person can do.
Thanks, Mark, for helping me to understand that. Not just to hear the words, but to understand them in my soul. It’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.
And please also know – this goes without saying – that I will never forget you.
Former D-7 Tpr.
71st RTT
Anonymous
Former MSP
September 14, 2011
