When memories can be marked, they should be: The impact of remembrance

Last week on Thursday, June 6, I woke up spontaneously at 3:15am my time and I got up and stayed up when I realized that I could watch the events marking the 80th anniversary of D-Day as they were happening on the coast of Normandy and being streamed live by CBC. This is not the first time I have gotten up early to watch something happening in a European time zone in real time — the funeral of Queen Elizabeth and the coronation of King Charles being the two most recent. I like seeing the event unfold in real time (and then seeing what is captured by the media as 'news'). 

I found the coverage of Operation Overlord unexpectedly moving, especially the first-hand stories told by the handful of Canadian veterans attending the events. Old men now, their emotions remain vivid of that day and the weeks and months that followed; their commitment to attend the commemoration, to be present and to remember the experience and their comrades who died moved me deeply. Tears fell into my tea as I watched and listened. What a powerful way to learn about history. To remember.

Of course, I am remembering a lot these days. Mum died just over six weeks ago and I remember her all day every day. I don’t need any props or prompts, but I dearly love having a few things ready to hand that remind me of her and of our relationship.

The biggest items are two small tables — one she used as her coffee table, one she used as the side table by her recliner. In my childhood, I had that coffee table in my bedroom; it was the perfect height for a small girl intent on writing and drawing. The side table was Mum’s extravagant purchase when she moved from the family house into the seniors residence. I was visiting her in those early months in her new home and we went together to pick it up. I was impressed — not only with the Amish craftsmanship of the piece, but with Mum’s willingness to buy herself something so beautiful as a marker of her new life in her new space. I remember her saying it had not been easy to make the decision to spend the money, but she was determined — and delighted.

At some point, I expressed my interest in inheriting the table when the time came, and forever after Mum called it “Amanda’s table”. Today, it stands beside the two-seater sofa in our sunroom, so I see it every day, use it every day, and every day am reminded that my mother used it, touched it, and, also, that she loved me.

The power of memories can be strong. The good ones are easy to nurture, happy to remember. Bad ones, difficult ones, are a different matter, of course. But when we can and when we want to remember, I am learning more and more how important and valuable it is to do precisely that: To remember those who have gone before.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.