Courage Rooted in Remembrance

"Victory is not in what was gained alone but in what was lost in the millions." ~ Unknown

Where poppies grow in a burst of red and valour was led by those who gave more than liberty; they evoked courage in a world of war some find hard to justify. No one wins in battle, for someone’s son or daughter may earn medals, yet it does not help a widow to wrap herself around cold medals in place of their loved one.

When Shayla enrolled in Air Cadets years ago, I was upset thinking one day she may enlist. It was an unreasonable notion and one that was needless in my concern. The near eight years my daughter spent in the Air Cadets was the best thing that could have happened to her. It gave her structure, responsibility and most of all, respect for her and the uniform she wore with pride.

There was one particular moment in Shayla’s life where her golden heart and reverence of others shone through. It was a right before the November 11 Remembrance Day Ceremonies, which my daughter would be in the annual Air Cadet Parade. She and I had stopped into Wal-Mart for a few things. As we neared the door, my daughter paused and asked for the keys to the car. I handed them over and assumed she had forgotten something. Shortly after, Shayla met up with me and as we went thru the till, I asked her what she had gone back for. She shrugged and replied it was nothing. As we walked past the exit, I heard someone calling out “You’re an Angel.” I turned to see a homeless man wearing my daughters Air Cadet gloves. “Bless you,” he smiled and nodded at her. My heart was moved deeply by her compassion, yet I asked, “What are you going to do when your hands are freezing as you march in the parade?” Shayla beamed with pride and said, “Mom, when my hands are cold it will remind me of two things, that man sitting on the horrible concrete and those who sacrificed their lives for yours and mine freedom. “

Today, as I paid my respects to the countless others who have lost their lives and continue to fight, I also fondly thought of Shayla. As the Remembrance Day Parade marched on by and I saw a new group of Air Cadets dedication to their core, I closed my eyes and honoured my own hero- my babygirl- with a minute of silence. For she never forgot her own roots or where she came from; Shayla found meaning in the life lessons instilled in her for all those years as part of a Squadron. Likewise, my daughter valued the glory held in the tears of soldiers from past, present and future.

Standing in the bitter cold, I was still a mother proud of their child. Upon buying my poppy, it was pinned on the collar of Shayla`s favourite winter jacket that I wore. Tucked in the pocket, was one of her pebbles. As the formation of planes flew overhead and passed, I wished to reach out for her hand once again. Instead, my gaze was upon the heavens where many people in this world, have had to endure the loss of their own heroes’…those who may now fly with a different set of wings.

By T L. Alton

They shall grow not old

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

From Laurence Binyon's poem For the Fallen, written in September 1914