Forget Magazine. Remember, Remember, Remember.

This is painful enough, but having the guy in all black consoling me just fuels the rage. I see it coming like a storm in the distance, slowly rolling in until the sun is blocked, my senses right along with the light.

He went peacefully.

Who the hell goes peacefully in a hurricane? He fought the inevitable, which is the true curse of consciousness. I saw it in his eyes everyday for three months. Where the hell were you then? Oh, yeah, you had other souls to save; a busy guy Our Fathering here and there, making sure all is forgiven, doling out free passes to those grasping at the tiny thread of life they have left.

Tell him. Get him the hell out of here so you can mourn in peace with the rest of your family. Be polite but firm. What comes out is a stream of profanity that would make porn stars blush. Someone has to pay for taking him, so why not the intruder?

It's okay, it will be all right.

You don the uniform and suddenly you know all humanity, what they're thinking, their feelings? I don't think so. You don't know anything about me, or my family, or the family member you just gave the pass to. Sorry for the vulgarity Big Daddy, but you just put yourself in harm's way.

You're welcome.

Eighteen years later, I finally get it.

Ian O'Neill will be back for more.