Mashpee soldier's 'precious life did end too soon'
By Ryan Kost, Globe Correspondent
MASHPEE -- Once the motorcade of flashing lights and black cars had weaved its way into the parking lot and the family was ready, the coffin of Army Private First Class Paul E. Conlon was carried into Christ the King church today as a choir sang Amazing Grace.
 (Globe Staff Photo/Wendy Maeda) |
Conlon was a poet at heart, explained the Rev. Daniel F. Hoye, but the song Amazing Grace had always struck him. On occasion, he would even sing the tune himself.
"But apparently a good poet is not a good singer," Hoye said, eliciting snickers of laughter from pews.
As a senior at Mashpee High School, Conlon had a collection of his poems published as a class project. It takes a unique person to be a poet, Hoye said, because "you have to be aware of your surroundings and what is going on and then you have to select just the right word, just the right word."
Hoye then described Conlon with a line from the poem "The Summer Day" by Cape Cod poet Mary Oliver.
"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Hoye said, quoting the poem. "Paul's one wild and precious life did end too soon."
Conlon, 21, is the second soldier that Mashpee has buried in less than a week. He was killed Aug. 15 in a roadside bomb attack in Afghanistan while riding in a Humvee. Governor Deval Patrick, Lieutenant Governor Timothy P. Murray, and Senator John F. Kerry flew back from the Democratic National Convention in Denver and sat in a front pew for the funeral.
Outside, a massive American flag hung from the extended ladder of a fire truck, billowing in a cool breeze. Soldiers in neatly pressed dress uniforms carried the coffin into the crowded, cavernous church.
Conlon's aunt, Victoria Baron, spoke for the family during the service, recalling how he did flips over his mother's coffee table and jumped on the bed so high his head punctured the ceiling.
"Each moment spent with him was so special," Baron said.
Mourners dabbed their eyes with balled up tissues. His mother, Maria Conlon, tried to muffle her sobs. Baron quoted an anonymous poem.
"Miss me a little, but not too long … miss me, but let me go," she said. "Paul will live on through each and every one of us."
The soldiers carried Conlon's casket slowly out of the church. The choir sang Amazing Grace.
(Globe Staff Photo/Wendy Maeda)
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