Homebodies - Figuring it out...

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Published on Saturday, November 19, 2016

By Rita Friesen

Neepawa Banner

For the past several years, I have watched the Remembrance Day services from the comfort of my home. Not certain why I switched to staying home, we used to attend as a family. Whoever was ‘home’ with us was family, and we all bundled up and paid our respects. This year I had simply to walk a block and find a seat for one. 

The hall was crowded as I arrived twenty minutes before start time. I found an empty, solitary seat. Conversation swirled around me and I shamelessly people watched. Family groups, friends, individuals whose partners were part of the ceremonies. Old and young, long term residents of our community and newcomers. I admit I am a clock watcher. I got restless, thinking – let’s get the show on the road. Rebuking myself for my impatience, I took a deep, centering breath and relaxed. Not my circus, not my monkeys, just be present.

And then a hush fell over those assembled. Two tall, stalwart officers in the brilliant red serge started the march. The commands resounded through the hall. It was the sound of the marching feet that did me in. Without my consent my throat closed and a tear trickled down my cheek. The sound of feet, marching, the slow measured step of men and women with a purpose. The veterans, the women of the Legion, dignified and walking tall. The folks, leaders in every sense of the word, led the youth of our community. Cadets, Scouts, Brownies, 4-H clubs, row after row of young people and their leaders participating in the event. O Canada, God Save Our Queen, songs won, meaningful. Voices united in majestic hymns and a poignant and thought provoking reflection. Community at its very best.

So what am I figuring out? I recognized that it’s easier to quietly weep at home than in the midst of a crowd. I recognized that my humanity, my freedom to weep in public, was hard won by those who fought for my freedom. I figured out that there is strength in numbers, I was not the only individual moved by the morning. I figured out, for me, the image of the strong leading the fray, followed by the elders, leading the way for the youth, spoke of living beyond the ordinary, the teaching/leading, by example. 

It was the sound of feet, determined in their presentations, stamping firmly as the wreath layer saluted and retreated. It was the sound of the Last Post, the sound of a child’s query into the silence, it was the sound of silence. It was the heart beat of my community honouring the men and women who served, who suffered, who sacrificed. I figured out that if weep I must, I will do it in the company of like minded friends.