Lest We Forget

We often stood in the rain for over an hour, we always had to be quiet, and I never fully understood why my parents made us stand in the cold while group after group of elderly men and woman placed what I thought was Christmas-wreaths around the large statue that stood in front of the New Westminster city hall. I was eight years old and if there wasn’t joy or laughter or happiness in an event, it didn’t make much sense to me. In fact, the only part I remember really enjoying was the trumpet because I went to a church with a large pipe organ and the trumpet only came out on Easter morning, and the trumpet was this unknown instrument that also signaled the end of the Remembrance Day service.

My sister shared a quote a while back that was something like “you don’t kiss your kids good night just so they kiss you back, you kiss your kids good night so they will kiss their kids and their grandkids will kiss their kids goodnight.” I think about that quote a lot, about the patterns we instill in our children in the hopes that they grab hold of them and share them with the next generation. Some of those patterns they will grab hold of, others they will discard. I am sure our generation is no different.

But I was thinking about that this morning as we prepare to head to the cenotaph in Fort Langley to remember those who came before us and died in horrific ways in horrific wars. My mom and dad dragged me every Remembrance Day no matter what the weather or my depth of understanding was of the day to simply give me the opportunity to better understand and be thankful that some young people many years ago died fighting for something they believed in. I am reminded of this again each Saturday night when I watch Coaches Corner and Don Cherry puts up pictures of young men who died serving in Afghanistan. As much as I love hockey, I watch each Saturday night for that moment. I weep each time I watch. I try to imagine the families back here receiving a phone call or knock on the door telling them that someone they loved died fighting for someone else. We pray for those people each night at supper, and for their families back here, knowing that though the times have changed, young people are still dying in horrific ways in horrific wars. And I hope that is something my children and my children’s children always remember, lest we forget.