There is something morally repugnant about someone being "taken before their time" as the saying goes. Not that we can truly know when someone's "time" is "supposed" to be up, but we can nevertheless feel shock and anger at the height of the unfairness of a life lost at a young age, under circumstances that are
anything but natural.
Early Saturday morning a good friend lost his brother in just such a manner. Chad Richard Litchford, a thirty-one year old father to be and a combat veteran of tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, was killed when his truck, which he had pulled over to the side of the road because it was having mechanical problems, was struck by a vehicle being driven by an allegedly drunk driver when it drifted over the white line and onto the shoulder. The truck slammed into Chad's truck and moments later his life was ended.
I was fortunate enough to have met Chad a few times. I recall speaking with him and listening in a kind of awe as he recounted to my stepfather and I some of his stories from his time in Iraq. He spoke of dangerous environments and daring actions with a casual air, as I would of a typical day in the classroom where the greatest danger I face is maybe having to take a late lunch. He didn't put on airs or puff out his chest. He was doing his duty. It was as simple as that.
The absurdness of what happened early Saturday morning on an anonymous stretch of Texas roadway cries out for understanding, for some sort of acceptable clarity. How can it be, we are left to wonder, that a man can spend years in some of the most dangerous and violent of places on the planet, where the very uniform he voluntarily donned each day made him a target of violence, that a man who was willing to lay down his life to protect the flag I salute each morning with my students, to protect the very freedoms scores of men and women who had gone before him had given their lives to enshrine and protect, did not face his final moments on a field of battle, but on a deserted Texas road.
Not at the hands of a confirmed enemy he had been trained to engage.
But at the hands of a citizen of the very country he fought to protect, whose mind and driving reflexes were most likely dulled by excessive amounts of alcohol and the lateness of the hour.
We cry out for understanding...but there is none to be had. Sometimes life simply defies any attempt at understanding.
So we remember. We remember the life of a man who served his country, willingly and repeatedly. We remember the life of a soldier, a brother, a father, a son. We remember the laughter, the fun times, a history shared and yes, even the tough times. We remember that we were privileged to have known this man. We wrap our arms around a family that is in pain, that struggles to deal with the hole that has been punched into the fabric of their reality. We remind them that they are surrounded by many who are ready at the drop of a hat to do whatever they need at this difficult time.
Though Chad's time on earth may have been short, the memories of his life will not be. The memories of those who we have lost stay with us. Though we age, they do not. The joy and the pain, the laughter and the tears, the good and the bad. Our memories become a part of our soul, stitched there to remain forever. And though life will continue to swirl about us, though events will still occur for which we have little or no understanding, the memories that become a part of us will never leave.
My thoughts and prayers are with the entire Litchford family.
Chad Richard Litchford 1980 - 2011
