At the going down of the sun
and in the morning,
we will remember them.
– Act of Remembrance
It’s a lovely sentiment. Do we make good on it?
I know that I don’t. I can go weeks, even months, without thinking of the war dead. Why not? A few reasons maybe:
- I have no war losses in my family history (at least as far as I know, which is sort of the point) so I have no personal driver of remembrance.
- I never served in the military so I have no occupational or institutional driver of remembrance.
- I was never taught, and have never encountered, any Canadian practice of daily observance so I have no traditional driver of remembrance.
Is the lack of daily remembrance a bad thing? Maybe. Is it hypocritical to make a pledge of twice-daily remembrance every year and then to ignore it? Probably. Is there something I can do about that? Absolutely.
I can choose whether to remember. When to remember. Who to remember. Family members, now gone. Martyrs through the ages. Notable people whose contributions are documented: scientists, artists, educators, thinkers, fighters against injustice. People who left no individual trace in our history books but who still left the world a better place than they found it. And yes, the war dead.
Does it sound like work? Remembrance need not be a burden. To borrow from Shakespeare . . .
The quality of memory is not strained
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes . . .
And if deliberately standing under a gentle rain from heaven doesn’t quite do it for you, especially at this time of year, take a look at this video, with its vivid yet gentle act of remembrance that touches everyone present in some way.
Whatever and whomever we remember regularly and with intention become part of us, reflecting and also affecting what we value and how we live. Let our acts of remembrance–private and public, individual and communal–be as lovely and as gentle as the fall of petals. And may they, like mercy, be twice blest: one blessing for those we remember and one blessing for us.
Your final sentence is something to always keep in mind. Thank you.
Judith – Thank *you*.
A beautiful and touching celebration of so many lives lost. Having been born in the midst of WW II, some of my earliest memories are of ways that war affected the families here in Canada. The loneliness of the women whose husbands, brothers, and fathers were overseas. The financial hardship that caused for many. Rationing of various foods. The agonizing length of time it took for news of events and deaths to reach people. The displacement of peoples from their homelands to a not-always-welcoming Canada. The whispered stories that somehow reached the ears of little children to confuse and frighten them for years to come. The tales of stoicism and heroism that filtered through to those same ears, making them wonder what life might hold and raising questions about how one might respond to similar challenges. Now that war is within sight, sound, and detailed reporting every day, it feels as though the world is at war. Yet, every way that we celebrate the peace we enjoy pushes back that recourse to violence.
Laurna – In a world where it’s easy to feel helpless, amen to that.
I had 4 first cousins in World War II—two in the Army, one in the Navy, one in the Air Force. The one in the Air Force was shot down in 1943 and his body was never found. In 2020—77 years later—a farmer in Germany found a dog tag in his field; it was traced to my cousin Don.
Tom
Tom – That sort of loss–a family never really knowing what happened–is almost incomprehensible. I guess it’s good to have some small token of a lost loved one, but none of this is easy or good.
It’s hard to watch what is happening to the south for us who saw our families & neighbours willing and eager to fight Fascism. There was a spirit of communal effort, a worthwhile cause, when freedom also meant a sense of responsibility.
What does Remembrance Day now mean to MAGA?
Barbara – A normal part of aging, I think, is the feeling that we don’t recognize our country any more. Whether it’s objectively worse than that I can’t say. I hope not.
Remembrance Day has special meaning for me, as my grandfathers and several uncles served in World Wars I and II, and, thankfully returned, sharing little of their experiences. The impact of war became more real to me following a trip my son and I took to Vimy and Juno Beach about 13 years ago, where we walked through damp tunnels near No Man’s Land, saw green fields still reflecting deep craters from bombs, climbed into narrow observation bunkers, walked on the sandy shore of the Atlantic, and visited quiet Canadian military cemeteries. Thank you for this reflection on observing and remembering.
I should also mention my Dad, who joined the RCAF at age 17 but did not see action overseas. He was very proud of his service.
Marilyn – Enlisting at 17? I cam imagine he was proud of his service.
Marilyn – That’s lovely, really. Thanks for sharing.