I don’t have a day pass where I haven’t thought about the morning God called you home. I only wish you were on this flight home with the team. Till we meet again.

This solemn message, written by one soldier to his fallen comrade, fills the margin next to a paratrooper’s name in a book overflowing with memories.

Troops have passed through Bangor International Airport for years, either departing for or returning from deployment overseas. The welcome offered by the Maine Troop Greeters lifts the passing service members’ spirits and temporarily distracts them from the realities of war.

But near the greeters’ room on a small black stand draped with a red cloth, there is a book that will not let them forget the realities of war.

The black three-ring binder contains the names of all American troops who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan within the last year. Behind the stand is a painting of the battlefield cross, the fallen heroes memorial – boots, rifle, helmet and dog tags.

“It’s a solemn process,” said Bud Tower, the Navy veteran who once a month downloads the names of the fallen and enters them into the book. “Especially as the numbers mount up every month.”

When troops passing through BIA locate the name of a buddy, it has become customary to share thoughts, prayers and memories.

Capt. Jac Solghan, 41, an Air Force flight nurse, stopped at BIA last week before his second deployment to Iraq. During his layover, Solghan flipped through the “Fallen Heroes” book, reading the hundreds of names and heart-wrenching messages. Visibly moved by the quantity of names and the young ages of the fallen, Solghan said his job overseas is to cut the number of names entered into the book next month.

“I’m part of air evac. I bring them back,” Solghan said. “As you can see, you can’t bring them all back. It’s very humbling that not everybody makes it.”

As Solghan took one last look at the book, a young soldier slipped his hand near the front pocket of the binder and pulled out two photos. The snapshots were of two young soldiers whose last steps ever taken on American soil were in Bangor.

“This guy looks so familiar,” the young soldier told Solghan. “I just can’t place him.”

The faces are all too familiar to troop greeter Dee Denning. When troops arrive at BIA, Denning is ready, with camera in hand, to document the occasion. She later uploads the photos on her personal Web site, whose address she gives to all the troops.

As Denning milled around the BIA terminal last March, she encountered Sgt. Jason Schumann, 23, who was on the way to the bathroom and a little apprehensive about a photo shoot.

“I told him, ‘You have a choice, I can either take it here, or I can follow you in there,'” Denning recalled with tears welling in her eyes.

Schumann’s mother wrote to Denning last May to express her gratitude for the welcome her son received and the photos. He was killed in an explosion less than two months after Denning snapped his photo outside the BIA men’s bathroom.

Then there was “Ricky.”

Less than one month after Denning took eight photos of Army Sgt. Richard Vaughn, 22, at BIA, he died in April while fighting in Baghdad. Denning recently received an e-mail from his mother.

“Ricky had made his rank of [sergeant] just shortly before leaving for Iraq, and he was very proud of that,” Jenni Vaughn of San Diego, Calif., wrote. “Unfortunately he never had a chance to get photos taken in uniform with that rank until that day in March at the airport in Maine. We were able to use one of those photos you folks took at the memorial service. It was beautiful.”

With Memorial Day upon us, Solghan’s unit has undoubtedly arrived in Iraq. But during his brief layover in Bangor, one book prepared by a veteran reinforced the airman’s mission and memories.

“I don’t think anyone should be forgotten,” Solghan said, pointing to the book. “For them the war is done, the war is ended. But not for any of us.”