LAST WORDS

I've been thinking about death alot lately, what with the war and the unending litany of people killing each other and themselves available as wordbites from any number of almost fringe and fringe websites that feature this kind of "news" for us to peruse...the deaths of people, who knew people, who had family. Who should be remembered for who they were before they were snuffed out.
I'm reminded of a scene from Hamburger Hill, when a GI named Linguilli gets killed and the last thing he says is "remember me".
As what Linguilli? A guy who got killed on some desolate hill in the Nam? A guy who got drafted into some insanity and got killed as a result? Or maybe volunteered for the duty, and was unlucky enough to catch a bullet, missing that big bird home. Or maybe...snippits of life that most would miss. He was an artist...that dude could draw some shit. He was a wanna be musician, what he lacked in talent, he made up for in heart...or maybe he loved sports, or maybe he loved his family, or maybe he was a no good pile of shit that joined the army to avoid a prison sentence and in the middle of a fire fight he caught one...one that changed his life, or maybe in the heat of the battle he had a change of heart and his luck just ran out...just like that. Last words.
If I found myself in a field of fire laying in a pool of my own shit and blood, surrounded by my friends holding me and watching me die, I would ask them to remember me. So many years down the line, when they all get together to remember that time, they would remember me...and a time that was. That was...and their I am, frozen in a time that was, a memory, exempt from the future, but carried through, all because I said "remember me". Last words indeed. Last words resonate, make no mistake. Remember me...