As the Iraq War turns 5 this week, a conflict that has killed thousands of American soldiers and Iraqi civilians and left us mired in the country with no definite date of departure could not be further from the minds of many Americans.

With the economy in one of the most precarious spots in decades and campaigns for our next president in full swing, many of us have turned our attention to the very real concerns of our everyday lives – worrying about paying an oil bill or a mortgage, keeping a job or running a business.

The media, too, have turned their attention to other matters. The war no longer leads the nightly news or appears on the front pages of papers. The war accounted for just 3 percent of news stories in the first 10 weeks of this year, according to a study done by the Project for Excellence in Journalism. That’s down from 23 percent of stories during the same period last year.

Iraq may be thousands of miles away, but approximately 158,000 of our troops are still stationed there. For the families who are living here without them, the war remains ever present in their lives. And for those families whose loved one returned from Iraq in a casket, the war will remain with them forever.

Ryann Roukey still wears her wedding ring and an anniversary ring she found two years after her husband, Larry Roukey, died in Iraq on April 26, 2004. He had left it for her in a box with a note, “This is for our 10th anniversary.” Their son, Nicholas, who was just 2 when his father died, still has his father’s green Notre Dame hat. He does not, however, have his father.

Staff Sgt. Butch Freeman lives with a disability after his service in Iraq. A bomb that exploded at a concierge tent near Camp Marez on Dec. 21, 2004, put a hole the size of a softball in his leg. A year ago, he was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury as a result of the blast. He is now receiving speech therapy, through the Veterans Administration, which Freeman says has treated him well.

Those whose lives have been forever changed by this war know their experiences have often mirrored the collective attention span of our society. When we invaded Iraq and in the ensuing years, as the casualties mounted, the war seemed to be everywhere for all of us. As security in Iraq has stabilized and the frequency of casualties has slowed, our attention has turned to other things. Yet, the war goes on. So, too, do the lives of Freeman and the Roukeys.

We owe it to them and the soldiers still serving there to remember what this war has cost them, and we owe it to ourselves to learn from this chapter in history. As we face a choice over our next president and try to figure out how to get the remaining troops home, the lessons are as important now as ever.

Brendan Moran, editor