What Does *Remembrance* Mean to You?

November, for many, is a month of remembrance.

Some may celebrate The Day of the Dead at the beginning of the month to remember loved ones who have passed away.

Many others commemorate Remembrance Day on November 11.

In whatever shape or form, remembrance may evoke a number of feelings and experiences. Loss, grief, sadness, love, kindness, gratitude, personal stories of tragedy and triumph may be just a few examples.

Remembrance may be all the more important in the present days as we have collectively faced the COVID-19 pandemic and our status quo as a society and world has been called into question on many levels.

In narrative therapy, remembering conversations and practices are opportunities to reconnect with significant figures (physically distant or otherwise) in our lives, by retelling the stories of those connections, finding their new meaning, and honouring the gifts that have been passed on.

Some questions for your personal reflection:

What does *remembrance* mean to you?

Who are the significant figures in your life and how have they contributed to your identity?

What thoughts, feelings and bodily sensations arise as you reflect on the meaning of remembrance?

***

Personally, remembrance takes me back to the Royal Canadian Legion Remembrance Day poetry contest that I entered in high school. I remember winning second place and $50, which was such a great surprise and reward, especially for an immigrant who watched every penny (yes, pennies still existed at the time!) she spent.

Every time I re-read it, the memories of those times, of the family and friends around me, of my internal experience come back to me with new discoveries and nuances that make my life richer. Let me share it with you because it is in keeping with the theme of remembrance, of storytelling and StoryTime. Lest we forget!

The Story

One November night, staring at my ceiling,

While the rain outside was raging and the swords of fire frenzied,

I had thought a voice was calling,

So I opened up my window and a breath of wind came to my chamber.

“Listen to my story, child.” the voice said clearly.

“What story would you tell me at this time of night,” asked I,

“When every creature’s sleeping and other things are on my mind?”

“I will tell you the story of my life…,” the voice explained, “and the way that I have died.”

I felt terror’s arms embracing me like a mighty Titan,

Yet I said, “Go on, I will listen to your story as I see

You are a restless spirit of the night.”

So the voice began its story:

“On Flanders field is where I died believing it was worth to fight…

I was young and thought I’d never die,

I was in love and had a wife; I had a child,

And had to leave them all behind.

I left with a sad smile, and yet I had the wings to fly,

Thinking it was the world’s way to bring forever peace,

And that we were meant to sacrifice and give our lives,

And show that we were not like frightened mice.

My dream became a nightmare though:

I slept with rats and swam in seas of blood, red as the poppies;

Loving words were words of hate,

The song of birds was that of guns, and nature’s scent was that of corpses.

But I thought that if my child and wife will have my dream

Then, my nightmare I will live.

My child and wife did have my dream

But now, another child and wife do have my nightmare still.

This is my story dear child,

So tell the world that hate and greed will always bring a war,

And only love will bring eternal peace. Good night and do remember me!”

“Rest in peace,” said I, “Your story will be told and you will always be with me!”

***

If you’d like to further explore the process of remembrance, remember to reach out.