Remembrance Day ceremonies are sacred to me. I don’t know anyone who died in a war, and I have never seen a day of armed conflict. I could easily go about my life never thinking about the people who have served our country, those who survived and those who didn’t. There is nothing about my life that brings those people to mind, except our Remembrance Day ceremonies.
Everywhere I have lived in Ontario the ceremonies have followed the same order - I think this is true across the country. Living in Ottawa in my late teens and twenties I attended the ceremony at the national war memorial every year, an experience that profoundly moved me and ingrained the importance of this ritual of remembrance.
The ritual we observe, as a nation, holds incredible power. I am moved to tears every year, thinking of what was sacrificed, what was given to those of us who came after. The shape of the ritual, and the repetition of it year after year, the same from one town to the next, is crucial to its effect.
Vigil sentries take position. Then the military parade and arrival of dignitaries. The national anthem, and opening remarks.
The Last Post, two minutes of silence, and Rouse.
Then:
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.
We will remember them.
They were young, as we are young.
They served, giving freely of themselves.
To them, we pledge, amid the winds of time,
To carry their torch and never forget.
We will remember them.
We will remember them.
Prayers and sacred traditions follow, and a recitation of poems or sometimes a song. Finally the laying of wreaths, and then the ritual is concluded.
Art and literature have a profound place in this ritual, as does our silent attention. The crowds gather, cold and sombre, communally remembering events that happened to few in attendance.
Our Canadian rituals of remembrance ensure we do not forget. They ensure we engage in respectful reflection; they create a container for sorrow; they pause our hectic lives to allow us to listen, to feel, and to be moved. And they ensure we do it together, as a collective.
I am more human after such a ritual, and I am grateful to live in a country that places importance on such a moment. On November 11, we honour the men and women whose sacrifices built this life we are fortunate to live.
We will remember them.