Remembering the fallen

Lately it seems that I come out to blog on very rare occasions. It’s ironic that as my last sortie was to promote a Peace Movement for Bloggers (see last post), the one immediately following it should be a very sombre yet hopeful and celebratory post.


I am Canadian. And on this 11th day, of the 11th month at the 11th hour, I will be bowing my head and thinking back to the thousands of soldiers, heroes, who died in the service of my country. They fought for their homeland, their families, to right injustices, for the weak and defenseless and so that Peace may be returned to the world.

In 1918, on the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, Armistice was signed. It heralded the end of World War I, The Great War. I find it so sad that we should have enough wars to number them... and I pray my daughter and her children won’t come to know another World War.

Last year, I posted about my father and his twin brother. I was thankful my Irish-born grandmother and Greek-born grandfather didn’t have to pay the ultimate price so many parents have had to pay over the years during Man’s history.

I had spent hours looking at and touching documents and mementos from my father’s time in the army. My heart swelled with pride as my eyes swelled with tears.


I thought of the women in my family and what this would mean to them... my aunts watched their baby brothers enlist. I remember my aunt Kay telling me how protective my grandma Mary had been of Dad as a baby. And how now, so many women send their husbands and sons to the desert, not knowing if they'll come home.

If I ascend up
into Heaven
Thou art there:
If I lay down
in Hell
Thou art there!
If I take
the wings
of the morning
and dwell in
the uttermost
parts of
the sea,
even there
shall Thy hand
lead me
and Thy right
shall hold me.
-Psalm 139

During the summer of 2005, my daughter and I took a girls only road trip. We toured a good portion of Ontario, discovering a part of our country. Our last stop was to be the nation's capital for a visit to the Science Museum. We ended up staying in Ottawa a little longer than originally planned. We drove by the Parliament and saw a light show was on and so we parked he car and waked over to join people from all across Canada and many visitors from foreign lands. Chicklet stopped at the eternal flame.



We decided to stay another day and after watching an inspiring musical light show we headed back to the hotel to rest up for a trip back to Parliament during the daytime. The next morning, we walked back to a place I had visited as a child and was still in awe of.



We visited the Peace Tower and Parliament Hill, walked in the solemn quiet of the Memorial Chamber and read the names of the brave from the Books of Remembrance.


We stood in front of the altar and marveled at the detail in the carvings and at the beauty of the stained glass windows. I was humbled at the scope and magnitude of the sacrifice that the books laid out for me. So many had died... some were so very young, from all parts of my great nation. That small yet majestic room sparked in me feelings of hope, that we may finally find Peace, a Peace that would be stronger than the stone, glass and metals from which the memorial was so lovingly and expertly crafted.

“My idea is that visitors to the Memorial Chamber shall realize the sanctity of the place, the pavement whereon they stand, the nations gathered at this shrine, the tremendous sacrifice, and shall read the lettered panel below the window of the Assembly of Remembrance so that there may come home to them the exhortation – Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses let us lay aside every weight and the sin which doth so easily beset us and let us run with patience the race that is set before us. Then as a parting benediction, carved over the door, the relatives of those who gave their lives, as they leave the Chamber will read:

All’s well for over there among his peers a happy warrior sleeps.”
-John Pearson, Master Architect.

I imagined the scenes in so many kitchens across our great land throughout the years, as mothers taking a brief pause from their chore filled days, would sit at the kitchen table, wiping a tear from their eyes as they worried about their sons who were in trenches, on transports, at sea...
My grandmother was one of them, her twin baby boys in training to fight as first generation Canadians... proud first generation Canadians.

She was fortunate not to suffer the same great loss that befell Mrs Charlotte Wood of Winnipeg, who had twelve sons and was awarded five silver crosses, one for each of five of those sons (Joseph, Louis, Fred, Harry and Percy) killed in the first world war, the war to end all wars. She was Canada's first Silver Cross mother. At her funeral in 1939, the ladies of the War Widows, of which she was an honoured member, passed by her grave and each dropped a poppy on her coffin.

In our changing times, following the death of Captain Nichola Goddard (Canada's first female soldier killed in combat), the Silver Cross has now been awarded to a widower... this isn't a change I cherish. I would like to see such medals become relics, reminders of times passed.

Canadian Soldier

Do not cry for me,
For I am a Canadian soldier.
Guardian of “The True, North, strong and free”,
Ambassador of the “Red Maple Leaf”.

I know that, what I had of freedom,
All I used or knew,
Is what our father’s
Fought for us long ago.

I did not give
That freedom away or,
Have someone take it away
By force or law.

You hold in your hands
The most precious of gifts.
Freedom to love and express art.
Freedom to be who you want to be.

Freedom is a package deal.
With it comes responsibilities and consequences.
The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.
Do not make our sacrifice, one in vain.

I join God knowing,
I fought for my fellow man’s freedom.
My duty complete,
Yours to carry on in memory.

For now my mother is crying,
And criticism of our mission arises.
Question not, but always remember,
For I am a Canadian soldier.

- Sgt. M.J. Watts

Later that day, my daughter and I walked to the Tomb of The Unknown Soldier where I said a silent prayer of thanks, and where we returned a couple of years later to pay our respects during the Remembrance Day ceremonies. My daughter left a poppy on that tomb as a show of gratitude.



We stood and cheered as our veterans marched past us. Before the celebrations started, Chicklet had walked over to a group of veterans waiting for the procession to start and thanked them, shaking their hands.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
~John McCrae, 1915

The Ode of Remembrance

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest we forget.

I've posted this before, and will continue to do so on Remembrance day...

I cry…

For the men and women who died, fighting for our Nation, for my freedom and the freedom of others…
For the mothers and fathers who have lost their sons and daughters in the fight for Peace…
For the men and women who have lost their soul mate…
For the children, those who are left behind… and those who shall never come to be…
For the friends who are left with only memories…
For those who have no PEACE…
For those who forget what makes the sacrifice so meaningful...
For those who miss so many important moments of everyday life because they are fighting for justice... the first step, the first tooth, the first goal, the first school play…
For my country, for we have lost so many fine Canadians…
For those who died alone... and for those who are buried so far from home...
For those who confuse their opinions on war and the respect and appreciation owed for the sacrifice of our soldiers...
For those who have lost their brothers and sisters in arms and parts of themselves...
For those who will not take the time to remember…