the fighting of world war one ended on november 11, 1918 at 1100, a day that became known as armistice day and in the british commonwealth – remembrance day.
as a canadian, this day has been something traditionally recognized in my home as my grandfather served all five years in world war 2 – overseas.
he came back with a war bride and PTSD. he joined the legion and drank the horrors of war away.
he didn’t like to talk much about it, so he didn’t, unless he was drunk.
my mother and father would drop him off at the legion and he’d be wasted when they’d pick him up after shopping at costco or wal-mart. then he would talk about the war, and the guns, and the boys he’d killed when he had just been a boy.
later, after he died, we found stacks of old love letters and polaroid photos from women he had met overseas. with long black hair and olive skin and high cheekbones, looking stereotypically first nations, he must have been so exotic to those european women. he called himself jack, overseas.
he said he felt like he was someone else when he was overseas, and maybe it was easier to truly become someone else.
i wish i had had more time with my grandfathers.
i think of them often, but especially today.
i remember you.
hospital vespers 