Forget Me Not

I wish I could forget the forgotten:

Those who died in righteous conflicts. Those who lived good lives, but for whom no one attended their funerals. Those who died alone, without all the ones who should have been there absent in the end. Those mothers who do and over-do for their children, from slicing off the crust of sandwich bread to working an extra job for their education. Those fathers who teach their sons about the sacredness of daughters and teach their daughters about equality. Those siblings who beat and tickle their brothers and sisters one moment but would die for them the next. Those children who persevere through abuse and immature parents. Those doctors and nurses and others who do little things that aren't their job to make sure those in their care benefit from the maximum. Those in the legal profession who champion the truth over their careers. Those politicians who put freedom over national interests and national interests over party interests. Those children who grow up to raise children right.

All the things we take for granted that are otherwise ignored, by-passed, and so very important, even if posterity doesn't think so.