NOVEMBER 11TH – REMEMBRANCE

A very good morning to you on this snowy and 11th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. I am feeling pretty ‘up’ today. I think the brightness of the snow has something to do with it. Our neighbours must be feeling it, too. We encountered some cheery smiling snow shovellers on our walk in the hood. Of course, there has to be an exception to the crowd. We past a fellow walker who was not only scowling but would not acknowledge our good morning greeting. He looked cold. Maybe he didn’t have his long johns on.

I’ve been focusing on writing these days that I forgot today is Remembrance Day. I had to stop and reflect on it a bit. It brings to mind one of my first Remembrance Day in Canada. The service was held in the Maidstone Theatre. I was chosen to lay down the wreath. If I close my eyes, I can still how it was -walking up slowly and solemnly in my Brownie uniform. I must have gotten igood nstructions from our leader, Brown Owl. And so today, I take a moment, close my eyes and lay the wreath down again in my mind’s eye and bow my head in reverence and remembrance of those brave soldiers.

My uncle, my mother’s elder brother was one of those brave soldiers. He was in the US Air Force. He was a radio operator and was in Africa, the Balkans, Italy and the Rhineland. He did make it home and I got to see him a few times in NYC before he passed away in 2002. He was 79. I hadn’t seen him or my other uncles often but my mother spoke often about her family and how they grew up. I felt as if they’ve always been in my life. I remember one visit to NYC my uncle picking up and holding my hand while in conversation. It was so natural a gesture and so endearing. I was enraptured by the moment. We, Chinese are not a touchy lot. At least I am not. But whenever someone holds my hand in conversation, I a deeply touched. There’s but a few. It’s alot to me. I’m grateful.

REMEMBRANCE

Snow flakes are gently floating down, making this November day whiter and brighter. Today is Remembrance Day and I’m remembering the poppies of John McCrea.

IMG_1551In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

I am reminded of all the young men then and now who gave up their lives – for what? What is it all about Alfie?  I am melancholy, unable to understand the whys of life. It’s an appropriate day for it.  Snow flakes falls on the ground, God’s tears freezing on their way down from Heaven.

I felt God’s sadness in the night.  I woke breathless and in a sweat.  I sat up in a panic, gasping for air, wondering what had happened.  In the dark, I calmed and settled myself. You are breathing!  I reassured myself.  No worries.  Go back to sleep.  I was comforted and soothed by His presence and so I slept.

Love abides still.  In Him I trust.

Burt Bacharach – Alfie Lyrics

What’s it all about, Alfie
Is it just for the moment we live
What’s it all about when you sort it out, Alfie
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind
And if only fools are kind, Alfie
Then I guess it’s wise to be cruel
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie
What will you lend on an old golden rule
As sure as I believe there’s a heaven above, Alfie
I know there’s something much more
Something even non-believers can believe in
I believe in love, Alfie
Without true love we just exist, Alfie
Until you find the love you’ve missed you’re nothing, Alfie
When you walk let your heart lead the way
And you’ll find love any day, Alfie, Alfie

 

REMEMBERING JESSIE

Perhaps it is just in the day.  It is cloudy and drizzly.  Now I have the time I crave, time that I have been wishing for, to do so many things.  But I can’t seem to move forward, cannot find what it is that I wish to do.  It is not that I’m restless,  for I feel a sense of inertia, and yet a sense of discomfort…of things left unsaid and undone.  And so here I sit.  Maybe the words will come to me.  Maybe the voice will come and tell me what it is that I want to do, what it is that I want to say.

The other day, I went to my friend’s mother’s funeral.  It seemed  as we age, the more funerals there are.  I cannot say that it was sad,  for she was 83, lived a good life and was suffering bad health the last year.  It is good that she is freed from all that.  I am happy that she is in heaven, among the stars, along with her John.

I remembered her kindness, her contributions to the community.  She was always happy to see me and welcomed me in her home.  One time I was visiting and she polished my shoes for church, along with her family’s.  Another time, she climbed the rickety stairs of my boarding house to give me a pair of lamps as wedding presents for my ill-fated marriage an eon ago.  She called herself my other mother.

Now, I think I can go on with my day.