Sunday, November 11, 2012
Piled tightly into the Jeep we trudge downtown to experience the community of remembrance. Poppy clad chests, pipers, buglers and drums fill Victory Square...assembling to pay homage to the passed but not forgotten. Mom recounted her Dad's stories today - stories of stress, loss, anxiety and pride. He was gone to war 7 years...and yet she remembered his face as though it was only weeks. Such a tie is family. I am back in the Jeep listening to the banter of father and son that sounds more like brothers. "Can too!" "Cannot!" is the extent of their challenge and yet it breaks me up to see them locking horns with each giving way at the same time. Usually, because my husband, his father, has tears running down his cheeks with laughter as he mimics some show or movie. The youngest, the observer, smiles at my glance. I too am at a loss. I can contribute to neither at this moment. A text from snowy Winnipeg confirms that the middle one is also affected today. She is observing on her own as she has moved eastward for independence and school. We can try to understand what freedom means, but until we have experience the lack of it is much like a man understanding childbirth. They know it hurts, but cannot tell you where or why. The silence at 11:11 is consuming and comforting. The sea of humanity before me is a result of the freedom and tyranny of that era. Thank you soldiers....I am sure you had no idea the contribution nor sacrifice you were making.