Lest we forget (Yesterday's post)

It would have been an amazing site, flying over downtown Ottawa this morning. Thousands of people flocked from all directions to the tomb of the unknown soldier, people of all ages and ethnicities, brought together by a need to remember, united by a bright red poppy with a deep black centre pinned over their hearts. I stop behind a man in uniform, slightly bent over to hold the hand of his young son, we wait for the light to change. The white man is illuminated, and we’re walking again. We cross into a park, nearing our destination. The son asks where everyone is going. “We’re going to show that we remember” says the dad.

A few minutes later I am a part of the crowd. I stand, craning my neck to try and catch a glimpse of the screen, hoping to see what’s going on. There are two officers standing infront of me, an elderly women just to me right, a family with two young daughters to my left, a blind man behind me. I remember being in brownies, sitting on a cold bleacher, right at the front of the crowd. Here, all I can see are the tops of parliament buildings, and our flag, gently blowing in the wind, the bright red contrasting with the crisp blue sky.

The big names arrive. They step out of black cars, and they shake the hands of veterans standing near by. First the Prime Minister, then the Governor General, than the Prince of Whales and Duchess of Cornwall. A man asks one of the officers in front of me why it wasn’t widely publicized that Charles was there. I can see raw emotion in the officer’s eyes as he replies “they are not the attraction to this event.”

We sing the national anthem: my voice quiets as I realize I can’t understand the words. I’ve heard the anthem in French, I’ve heard the anthem in English. But today I was a part of a nation singing the words, meaning the words, and in the synthesis of language we are tied together in a melody of passion; together we sing O Canada.

A shot fires and I jump. I expect the children around me to cry, but there’s a silence - not the absence of noise, but the absence of the present as heads bow, eyes close, tears fall, and we remember. In the distance, I can hear the church bells ringing downtown, announcing the time: 11:00. The elderly woman’s shoulders rise and fall as she cries. The mom softly explains what she can see to the blind man: the faces of veterans, the sea of poppies, the statues. She answers the call of the child in her arms, her voice is rich with love. Nous nous souviendrons.

There is prayer. There is a message. Planes fly over and for a split second, they darken the ground, separating us from the bright sun above is. It’s deafening, but then it’ over, and I’m left just to wonder what it must have been like, so many years ago.

A children’s choir sings while the wreathes are being laid. Their voices are some how angelic and haunting at the same time. And throughout, the gun keeps firing. I tremble. One little girl beside me just clings to her mom. The other’s hands are tightly clasped around her ears. She is distressed, her voice is desperate. Daddy, she begs, why are they doing that? Daddy it’s loud. Daddy please stop the guns! Stop them! Please daddy!. My heart breaks for the children whose daddies died trying to stop the guns.

As the ceremony ends, people begin disperse through the streets, like a frozen river breaking up, there is a madness as we break away from one another, as the madness of the world flows back into our lives. We run for busses, for lunch, for work, for class. I may be too young to really remember. but I am not too young to experience the emotion around me. And the thing that I think students often forget, is that war didn’t stop suddenly after the armistice was signed. War seems to be continual. There are soldiers just a few years older than I in Afghanistan right now, maybe even some that I know. I may be too young - but I remember.

I unpin my poppy, and hold it in my hands before I rush off to class. There’s something more than plastic here. I think about the faces I’ve seen, the pictures I’ve seen, the history I’ve studied. I think about Afghanistan, Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Darfur. The world is still struggling.

I’m thankful for my freedom.