A simple memorial day piece.
"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers." -Jose Narosky
They stood in silence and solitude, waiting.
The sun was burning through the morning mist, casting flickering claws of grey through the trees. It was quiet, not a whisper of wind or creak of branch. Somehow, part of nature seemed to realize that today was different. That this day was not quite right.
The world seemed to pause today.
The brothers where standing side by side, watching the sun make its way higher and higher above the tree tops. Dean glanced down at his watch, noting the time.
11:00 am.
Today was a solemn affair for the both of them. Remembrance Day had always been an important thing for their father, a time that he had never let them forget and just something they had to do. They had so many people they had to remember as well.
So many people they knew had been lost in this war. Too many, all that deserved to be honored.
"You alright Sam?" Dean asked softly, eyes ticking over to watch his little brother.
"Yeah," Sam murmured, moisture starting to well. "Yeah, I'm fine." Just remembering. The words were unspoken, yet heard by both.
They understood the sacrifices made more than anyone. No matter the cost, freedom is always worth fighting for. Choice is always worth fighting for.
Without a word, Dean lifted his beer and clinked it with Sam's, both downing their bottles in synchrony. They stood there for two minutes, the silence their own respect. Around the world, people were all taking time to recall those who had given everything, and in that moment, the world was quiet.
Here they were, in the middle of nowhere but alive and still kicking, battling and living on despite all odds. It hurt though, but it didn't matter. The pain reminded them of what they needed to remember.
'Now you're at home and carrying on
While others you knew they're now gone
Their laughter is missed but their faces you spy
When asleep or briefly out the corner of an eye
So growing older don't let memories soften
Drink to their names, let them cross your lips often
For all the stone and the brass, it counts for 'ought
If we forget the names of those that fought.'
Dean spoke softly, his voice low and cracking. Then he sniffed, memories and respect all he could contain, and turned his back to the sun. There was nothing left to say.
We Will Remember Them.
To all men and women serving and fighting for freedom,
now and in the past,
You have our utmost respect.
Stay safe.
We love you all.
~Lazer
*Excerpt taken from John Bailey's 'Life and Soul of the Mess'.