An ancient Buddhist adage cautions us to pay attention to the world and breathe in all that surrounds us from moment to moment.
“Take heed,” the holy words warn. “Do not squander your life.”
From what little I know about Jeffrey DePrimo, he took this wisdom seriously and paid attention to detail.
The 35-year-old Army National Guard first lieutenant from Pittston died in combat Tuesday morning near Ghazni, Afghanistan.
An explosion rocked the Humvee in which DePrimo was riding, killing a Navy officer and interpreter. Two other Guard members from Northeastern Pennsylvania were injured by the roadside bomb.
Those soldiers are expected to recover, according to press accounts. The Army has not yet identified them at the request of their families, the reports say.
Yesterday on “Corbett,” as word spread through the little town where DePrimo grew up and where his parents and sisters still live, people called to offer their condolences to the family.
A man called to say he remembered sitting on the bench while DePrimo played left field in a Little League All-Star game. A teacher recalled her former student’s musical ability and her “heartbroken” sense of loss.
Press reports today tell of a young man with a fine eye for detail, so much so that he was viewed as a total pro when it came to detailing cars at a dealership in Exeter where other family members work.
DePrimo’s superiors are quoted as saying that he was a consummate professional when it came to duty, honor and military service, as well.
As Memorial Day weekend bears down, we are faced with yet another loss from our area.
Luzerne County, where DePrimo lived, has lost six servicemen in Iraq or Afghanistan.
The 109th Infantry, in which DePrimo served, has lost eight men in combat in those wars.
All toll, 18 men from Northeastern Pennsylvania have died, according to this morning’s Scranton Times-Tribune.
Reading the names in the paper this morning, I was struck by how little most of us know about the men and women in America who die in our name.
Military funerals have been taking place across the nation for the past five years. I’ve attended three and will likely attend more. Although I’ve felt uncomfortable at them all, I’ve taken home a grave lesson from each.
That burden is meant to be.
Without a continuing personal sense of confusion, loss, even anger, life is stopped in a storm of despair. We become frozen, ineffective victims of a fierce and terrible grief. We sometimes isolate ourselves because the burden seems just too hard to bear.
But we must talk about our war dead. We must get to know them as if they were close members of our family, as if they belonged to us because they now do belong to us. History belongs to us all. Even if we try to avoid its wrath, we are captured by its sometimes ghastly embrace and wracked with the pain of what went before. Each loss becomes a turning point. Each death becomes another reason to examine ourselves, our conscience, our America.
To do otherwise, as difficult as it will be to engage the discussion and all its’ dimensions, would disrespect our military dead. To do otherwise, as troubling as the conversation might get, would dishonor the blood sacrifice of our fallen.
We cannot afford to turn away from this challenge.
We must face this terrible ocean of tears that floods the landscape from sea to shining sea.
Above all, we must never forget the small details that comprised the lives of our war dead.
Sue Henry
