It wasn’t getting to sleep in a little bit, which is nice whenever it happens.
It wasn’t getting to see my parents when they picked me up this morning, which is always a treat because I don’t see them as often as I’d like.
It wasn’t watching all of the proud men and women in uniform march through the city streets and surround the lovely memorial.
It wasn’t seeing the turnout at Victory Square as a huge number of Vancouverites all came to show their respect and share in the moment.
It’s not the fact that my little brother is out, in uniform, on some boat in the Pacific, serving his country in these troubled times.
It wasn’t even that magical moment, plucked from the pages of a perfect story, when at the first note of the Reveille, at the end of the 2 minutes of silence, the sun finally rose up high enough to peek over a nearby building and shed the crowd in it’s crisp, autumnal glow.
It was the realization of what this holiday means that’s made it seem so much more special to me. Not a lot of fuss is made leading up to Rememberance/Veterans/Armistice day. A poppy here and there. A few commercials on TV on those 10 days in November leading up to the 11th.
But really, this is what holidays should all be about. Celebration of our fellow (wo)man – regardless of race, religion or political affiliation. All that’s expected on this day is respect. No fancy presents, or fuzzy mascots, or ties to a particular religion or people. A donation for a poppy would be appreciated, but it’s not necessary.
Cameraderie, Awareness, Respect, Rememberance. I think it’s time for us all to re-train our focus onto the things that really matter.