Today, a guest post. Small communities honour those who have passed in a different way than those in the big city, with pomp and circumstance.
We attended a Celebration of Life yesterday. I had mixed feelings, as my last contact with this man The last contact I had with this man was when I was emptying my late father's house. I was dealing with many issues, and in the middle of pregrieving my dad's passing. It brought back those memories: bearing the anger dad had at old age, and frailty, and his brain tumour. My husband had some wise words, and a thoughtful commentary. I post it here for your reflection.
Dear friends and family,
The weather here is relatively mild, which make for good dog walking.
My client is still in the hospital so his German Shepard and I go out twice a day for about 40 min a time.
Another volunteer takes him two more times, so he and we get good exercise.Been a month now.
I am joining a local library support group ( for the district, 4 libraries) .
So we keep active.
We attended another memorial service for one of my clients yesterday.
Harry ran the local storage place.
He was a stonemason, and a Navy Vet.
That make two in two months , both veterans of WW2.
Jen, as well as her activities above, has a WW2 client in a nursing home..He served on a British Battle Ship as a radar instructor and operator.
We looked up the fairly famous ship (HMS Renown which served in both theatres of war, including the battle with the Bismark)
Actually made contact with an Australian officer from same ship (also in radar).
Jen's client is, not surprisingly a physicist, who was also a senior person in the Atomic Energy Commission.
Getting back to the yesterday's service.
It took place in our community center (full , we stood).
Neither of the services of these vets were formal, but both were quiet moving as they were Legion ceremonies.
In these cases, the local veterans form up in line , and led by a piper playing The Maple Leaf Forever. They parade to the front of the hall
to salute at the table containing the Beret and medals of the deceased.
We have about a dozen vets left here , I know some of them , as they either are clients or caregivers themselves.
There are not many left.
When I was a boy, and attended Remembrance Day Services (My father and two of my uncles served overseas, one, a bomber pilot was lost) the lines of these men and women were long and young.
Now, out of the 1,000,000 or so who served only 150,000 remain.
The average age is 86. Across Canada, 400 a week die. Soon there will be none.
So, with all this in my head, I watched this little parade, march to the front of the hall, in Regimental Berates, blues blazers and medals, two wearing the red berets of paratroopers.
They, (and then the family members), place a poppy on the table, salute, turn, reform lines and march back..
and although I have attended Remembrance Days ceremonies much larger in many cities, including Ottawa and the base in Halifax, this was the most moving, I have been privileged to see.
To see these old men, still marching to say good by to their "comrade" ( the legion term for a member), backs straight, lines straight is something to see.
Not painful, like the repatriation of our losses on today's field, more just a sense of what was, another passage in their lives and ours.
It seems to be our new calling to help this generation move from here and now to wherever, with some comfort and dignity.
We are gifted to have this task.
The passing of the generation before your own, constantly, brings many memories, and a strong sense of mortality to mind.
These are my thoughts of today, I have a large dog, waiting for my legs and leash, not my musings.
Brian
4 comments:
Helping the previous generation move on with diginity and as much comfort as possible; yes I guess that is what we are doing. Now, only three years after my mother left this life I am seeing too many of my own generation moving into hospice.
Nice writing, Brian.
Happy walking!
Thank you & Brian for a most important post.
Aloha, Friend!
Comfort Spiral
My mother lived through the Battle of Britain. She worked on the Scramble Switchboard, below St. Paul's Cathedral, and was there when the German battleship Scharnhorst made her run through the channel and was finally sunk. Everyone was waiting for this ship to make her move to the open sea -- the thinking was she would run at night, so the Allies arranged a day-time practice on a mocked-up ship. The Germans had good intel, and the ship made her run by day, unexpected, and while the mocked-up copy was at the other end of the Channel. Mom was on the switchboard when a young pilot spotted the 'real deal' and called it in, struggling to make the brass understand this was NOT the model target, but the Real ship. The Germans' called it Operation Cerebus, and it caught the Brits on the hop. They finally did catch up with her, on Boxing Day, 1943, and the Duke of York and Belfast sank her, with 2000 men aboard. 36 survived. War is dark, and ugly. Mom also had a relative on the Prince of Wales, a civilian who was on board doing some work on the electric system when the Bismarck sailed and all ships were sent in pursuit. There was no time for him to go ashore. He was there when the Prince of Wales was sunk, with only 3 men surviving. These are the stories, these are the people, that are fading, and that should not happen. These are the people, and their stories, that we should honour and cherish, because the way we live today... well, that's because of what they did.
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