Living is a harmless act in times of peace. It is not the result of any struggle except that of the body’s biology. Our predecessors were not so lucky as to experience a relatively peaceful world. We are the heirs of it, although often ungrateful or at least unaware of this chance. We do not realize how war is a constant in history and that the current period is quite unique.
To learn history is to learn the history of those who sacrificed themselves for a cause they believed to be greater than themselves. Greed and glory may be the driving force behind tyrants, but those who defend themselves by taking up arms do so out of love for others, for the preservation of a family, of a heritage that they feel is threatened.
The memory of the men and women who have fallen so that we may live in peace should haunt us. Not to make us feel guilty, but to give a certain gravity and grandeur to our daily actions and reflections. The memory of these sacrificed lives, swept away by the winds of history, is a duty for all those who wish to reconnect with the sacred. The memory of our fallen ancestors constitutes a mental sanctuary that must be preserved. Our hearts should beat in unison every day to commemorate their ultimate offering.
Even though many of them could not bear offspring by their blood, we can adopt them as our forefathers in heart and mind. Their sacrifice was not in vain. The sacrificial dead resonate for eternity, they are there to give us the nobility at all times that the living often struggle to transmit. Their dedication must be a glorious inspiration to reconnect us with men and women of value.
The dead speak to the living, we just need to read them.