By Roslyn Ryan
Editor

Life is short.

There is no simpler way to put it, just as there is no getting around the fact that no one — not even our heroes — lives forever.

This, I know. This we all know.

So then, how to explain the feeling of disbelief last week when I learned, from an obituary notice dropped on my desk, of the passing of Powhatan resident Thomas Reekes.

For plenty of people, his name will not ring a bell. Thomas Reekes didn’t hold a public office or agitate for any particular cause that I know of. His face, I suspect to most, would be recognized simply as one of the many senior citizens who call Powhatan home.

I, however, was luckier than that.

Two years ago, I had the opportunity to interview Mr. Reekes for an oral history project on Powhatan’s WWII veterans.

How many among us, who have not been through the torments of combat, can imagine what it is like to relive those memories, each one as vivid and raw as if it had happened yesterday instead of over half a century ago?

How many among us would be so brave?

For the better part of an hour, in a voice overcome more than once by the weight of his memories, Mr. Reekes related stories of his service on Iwo Jima. He described the day he left home at 17 and the devastation he saw on the battlefield. He spoke of losing his closest friends and seeing true heroes in action.

I took from his descriptions that he didn’t count himself among those heroes. I couldn’t find the nerve, then, to point out his error.

I wish I had.