Speak their names

I am thinking of the so-called third death - that moment, sometime in the future, when your name is spoken for the last time.

Here I come, again, to keep alive the memory of a young man lifting a young woman out of a landing boat, Thomas and Margaret, my grandmother's grandparents. 

I didn’t write their names last time; I had in mind their voices, the language they may have brought with them from the Scottish Highlands.