Warbride

A few years ago, while still in university, I was at home watching a Rememberance Day Memorial service. As I watched the laying of wreaths and the reflective faces, I thought of my Granny.

She was born in England and served as a nurse in World War II. My Grandfather was from Toronto and was serving in the Canadian military at the same time. They met overseas and fell in love. She returned to Canada and married my Grandfather, giving birth to three sons - the youngest of which was my Dad.

With my mind on my Granny, I wondered how she was feeling on that day. My Grandfather passed away a few years ago, after suffering from alsheimers. While they began there family in Toronto, they later followed my Dad and my Mom out to British Columbia. Eventually, they settled in the town that I was born in, Kamloops. Surrounded by the low rising mountains (low by BC standards), the valley that the town is in, cut by two colliding rivers, became their home.

She still lives there, but dearly misses her husband. November 11th is a day that highlights this feeling.

That day, I decided to call her. Taking into account the three hour time difference, I called her a few hours before 11:11AM.

Since then, I have called her every year. She often shares memories and stories with me in those conversations. She smiles and she cries. She also lets me know about her gatherings with the other 'war brides' that live in Kamloops.

It is something that also brings deep meaning to the day and the memorial in my own life. I am here, and born in B.C., raised in Toronto through them meeting in the war. As I love my Granny dearly, I also feel the joy of her memories and the sadness of her longing for the love of her life.

It's only the grace of God that can give the strength to keep on living and loving like she does.

When I was visiting Ottawa last spring for the opening of Rhema in the nation's capital, some friends and I were touring the city's downtown core in a light rainfall. As we walked around the grounds of Parliment Hill, we came to the War Memorial. I recognized it from the television broadcasts I see most years, and it brought back the memory of that very first Rememberance Day phone call.





















I decided to climb the slick slope to stand beside the dates of the war that brought my Grandparents together. I was not just standing beside some numbers carved in stone, but something that represents a part of so many lives - including mine.

This year, I was not able to call my Granny on Rememberance Day, but I thought of her waking up in the quiet of her Kamloops home. I imagined her in a reflective silence, perhaps tearful, perhaps prayerful, most certainly talking to Grandad across the confines of time and space.

11:11 came eight hours earlier for me than Granny, and I remembered because it is also a part of me.