We remember once they are dead
In life they posted in obscurity, their Tik Toks, Youtube videos and Instas standing as their now frozen mausoleum for all to leave virtual tokens of respect. Rarely did we stop by those artefacts of life prior to this brutal freezing of life, to share their joy, their whimsy. Only in death do their ideas and content bring meaning to us. And only because of the nature of their death. If not for such brutality would we ever remember them?
In the celebration of lives lived we stand sentinel with candles and votive offerings vowing to never let this happen ever again. Our collective anger rings high, hymns from coarse throats ragged as we wipe tears. Another body, another person’s child. We hold collective, virtual, hands hoping that our communal grief will somehow cherish the slain memory.
Who trips the swipe fantastic for hours on end devouring their content, their smile, the energy they shared so full of life? In sorrow we take the time to see the joy unencumbered, the brief burning so bright. Taken too soon. We wish this land of ours was safe. We wish that no malice will become of them, yet in our rage the world goes one and little happens. We only remember them when they are dead for they have become our sentinels in the dark, names to be read in forever reverence. Our vow is never again, yet the names grow ever longer, a winnowing of lives forever on the cusp.
Is it right that only in death we know their names? These paragons of injustice wrought by callous, uncaring hands? We hallow their names because it is all we have left to grasp, their veneration, their sanctification is the revenge against the slayer’s hands. Their names live on, the murders known only to the courts. It is the flower of our youth, the flower of our community forever pressed into our memories. Hark, we call, and light the candle to remember for ever more.
This is an us thing, a collective outpouring of grief that can only come when they reap the bright unknown sparks. Our grief, visceral and communal, washes over us, and only in death do those slain strangers become real and tangible. In death their obscurity is shattered, their last videos and posts a memorial to something bright and worth remembering. For while we did not know them in life, they will life forever on in death to spite those who wished to snuff out their flame and crush their spirit.
