It is with a heavy heart I write about the death of our conservative warrior, Andrew Breitbart.
My first response at hearing the sad news was absolute disbelief – how could such a man die who was so full of life? It seemed a terrible transgression against common sense and reason.
I remember having arrived in Los Angeles for a business trip, and driving through the city, enjoying the sunshine, and laughing uproariously at the news reports that Breitbart had taken over Anthony Weiner’s press conference. I will forever remember him this way. He was triumphant, valiant, laughing and prodding at the press, knowing they wanted to destroy him, and absolutely overwhelming them with the most potent weapon Andrew wielded so well - the truth.
This terrible day makes me recall the somber poem by Walt Whitman that always brings tears to my eyes:
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Walt Whitman’s haunting words describe the terrible murder of Lincoln after the North’s victory in the Civil War. While our victory is not yet determined, we must use our sorrow at Andrew’s death, and our joyful memories of him, to ensure that success that he fought so fearlessly and valiantly for.
Like Kurt Schlichter put it, “There will never be another conservative warrior like Andrew, but there will be many more conservative warriors because of him.
So it’s after a day of thinking about Andrew and what he gave us, what he left us, that I can confidently answer the question, “how could he could die?”
He didn’t, and he won’t, as long as we continue to fight against the lies of the liberal media and those who would destroy our great country. We must renew our commitment to that struggle that he threw himself into with such wit, intelligence, and glee.
We must fight on, in the memory of our great friend, defender of truth, and son of liberty, Andrew Breitbart.
God rest your soul, Andrew.