This morning I returned from Remembrance Day Services at the Cenotaph in Ladner Village. Ours is a small village but the parade route was crowded with people. We were there to honour and remember those men and women who sacrificed their lives for their country. No matter the ethnic diversity or religion we wore the red poppy and sang O Canada. The wreaths were laid. The honour guard departed. The Cenotaph was given back to Ladner Village. It was our turn to remove our poppies and place them among the Remembrance Day wreaths.
We have our remembrances on this day and I share one written by a dear friend of mine.
“The respect which remains in far away places for our Canadian soldiers warms my heart for so many reasons; most important among them is that my dear father was one who chose to serve his country as a Navigator in The Royal Canadian Air Force.
As a child I found carefully stored boxes in which were remnants from his service: reconnaissance photos, pieces of shrapnel that entered his plane from many directions and bits of a rosary mom had given my non- Catholic father in hope of keeping him safe. The rosary in bits because it had obviously been closely held. I asked mom about this find but never my father.”
Dad never spoke of his experience and I somehow innately knew not to question him. If asked anything about his service by a guest in our home his answer would be short and non- descriptive. I can only imagine his experience while being in the midst of the horrors of war.
I thank my dad and all others who sacrificed so much, including their lives in many cases, in order to represent Canada in assisting a part of the world in its time of great need. Words I so wish my father could have heard coming from me.”