Monday, 8 November 2021
Remembrance Day, Thursday November 11th, 2021
The very first Remembrance Day in the British Commonwealth was recognized on November 11th, 1931. Previous to this, we called it “Armistice Day” in recognition of the armistice agreement which ended the First World War on November 11th, 1918 at 11am that morning. Across our country every November 11th, Canadians pause whatever they’re doing at 11am to remember all those who have served our country during war and times of peace, and the over 118,000 men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice. Nearly all of us have a family member or dear friend who has served. My maternal grandfather served in World War II.
When I a little girl growing up in the early 1980’s, I vividly recall visits to Grandma and Grandpa Lahey’s house in Niagara Falls. They were my mother’s parents. My grandmother Lucille usually had an apron on over her house dress, as she was either about to or had just pulled something out of the oven. If that wasn’t the case, she would be rolling the manual carpet vacuum across the living room carpet. She was a lively French Canadian woman who always had a smile and kisses for us, followed by open arms for a famous grandma hug. We knew she always had a treat baking, even if she didn’t know we were coming. It was just kind of there.
My grandfather on the other hardly ever cracked a smile as he sat in his La-Z-Boy chair in the living room, forever fiddling with the antenna dial to get a better picture on the television. You didn’t dare touch that box! It was only for grandpa. I remember one day thinking he didn’t like us grandkids very much, but learned very early that grandpa was just quiet. He loved us tremendously; he just had a hard time showing it. His favourite pastime was bowling, or watching his video tapes about the war. He had two full bookshelves full of books and video tapes about World War II. I only remember watching bits and pieces with him a couple times, but this one time, with my sister…I do remember him cracking a smile. It was a smile made up of 100% pride. He said out loud “See girls, that’s my tank. That’s the tank I drove in the war and those were my friends.” On one of his beloved tapes, there was footage of his unit during the war when they were overseas. Some of them were walking, but we didn’t see grandpa’s face because he was driving the tank that rolled across the television screen.
Ever since that day, I always thought of my grandpa as a hero, and pretty kick ass that he drove a tank during the war! He was a good Irish man with a gentle smile. He was a good provider for his family and he was a loving teacher of days gone by. I can only speculate this, but, due to his quiet nature and the fact that we were never allowed to ask him about the war unless he was already talking about it, he very likely came back with some strong emotions and possibly PTSD from his days driving that tank. Apparently, when he got home, his mother had given away all of his possessions. He came back to nothing. I guess she didn’t expect him to come home alive. Imagine you served your country, watched your friends make that ultimate sacrifice, you probably had to kill people when a few years earlier that wouldn’t have been a second thought in your head…and you came back to nothing. In spite of this, he carried on with his life back in Canada. He got a good steady job at a local brewery. He had great friends. He married my grandma and was a good husband and father.
We take so much for granted. We complain when Facebook goes down for a few hours or our order takes too long in the drive-thru. We have what we have, and we have our freedom because of brave people like my grandpa. Bless everyone who has ever served and/or died while just doing their job in a foreign country to protect us. I wear my poppy with pride and gratitude to Grandpa Lahey. Thank you.
