Remembrance Day 2011 has passed and I hope you all found a way to remember the brave men and women who fought for our country, lost their lives, or are still standing on guard for us all. This is a memoir I wrote a year and a half ago about a time in my life which made Remembrance Day all that more significant:
--It had only been seven months since he left. It was only supposed to be six though and now there are still two more to come. The days felt so long. It wouldn’t be so hard if he had been older, or if they had been more familiar with the circumstances. Some days were better and some just plain felt as if they would never end for his mother and father; they hated seeing their baby gone. Matthew, the oldest of the family, was going to college in New Brunswick and faced days of feeling alone and expecting to be the last to hear of anything, but sometime the first to hear of something. David, the youngest of the family, was no longer in the same school as his older sister for she went to the high school and he was still in junior high. Teachers noticed the blank looks on David’s face from time to time – instead of being attentive or even his usual talkative self, he would completely tune out the world and think of him. Rebecca, the only girl, faced the controversial topics that often came up in her modern world history class, she faced people making off hand remarks that weren’t meant to stab or create pain. There were some days where she just wanted to stay at home, curl up in the living room, and read all day. Their mom found it hard to not think about it, to not worry, but she prayed – oh did she pray. And their dad, the rock of the family, prayed alongside his wife.
Still they were so proud.
Then, there was Aaron. There were days when he found it hard not to think about his family and friends and what they were going through. There were days though when only the tasks at hand were on his mind. He did his best to hold it together; he didn't want to give his family and friends more reason to worry. He was there, he was doing this for his country and was proud to do it. No, things wouldn’t be the same for him. Yes, war had changed his life. But he was stronger because of it.
One Saturday afternoon, the phone rang while his family was sitting at home after a busy week of school, work, rehearsals, practices. Mom glanced at it and Dad tensed up, David ran downstairs and Rebecca put down her book. In the past seven months, this was the typical reaction to the ringing of a phone cutting through the previously calm air of the Judson home. It could be Matthew calling just to chat with the family, Grammie calling to see when Dad was going to drive the dalia bulbs over to Montague, a neighbour asking to borrow a few eggs, or it could be from a little place called Kandahar. In the few seconds that that phone sat ringing, every possibility played across the minds of Aaron’s family and in those few seconds, your heart felt like it was going to break or become overwhelmed with happiness. The feeling of your gut pulling tight together and that lump forming in your throat was inevitable and terrifying every time it happened.
Mom reached over and picked up the phone. “Hello?” There was a long pause and everyone knew it was Aaron. “Hi dear.” She said it in the tone that spoke so many things; she was grateful it was not a commander, terrified her son was injured, hopeful that he was coming home early, and simply happy to hear his voice. The look on Mom’s face though spoke something different this time and she nodded as she fiddled with a loose string on the couch cushion, “I know sweetie. I love you too.” A long pause. “Here’s your father.” Aaron spoke with each of them, a quick hello and I’m doing well, then a pause where he said: “I just want you to know how much I care about you. I love you.” Then the typical response of “I know, I love you too, Aaron.” This was not a regular phone call from Aaron about how he was doing– it was different.
It was a month before they heard from Aaron again. A very long month. Everyone knew something was up, but they held it together and learned how to rely on one another. Mom never prayed so much in all her life as she did that month. There were many calls from Matt in New Brunswick to see if we had heard anything yet. But finally, mid May, there was another phone call. Mom glanced at it and Dad tensed up, David ran downstairs and Rebecca put down her book. They all looked at the phone as Dad picked it up and said “Hello?” into it.
A smile broke across Dad’s face: “It’s Aaron.” Those two words together were some of the most relieving and calming words that had been spoken in that home for the eight months Aaron had been gone. They gave hope back to a family who had worried they’d lost a brother, a son, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin, and a friend. A loved one.
Those two words reminded us that God has everything in control. We would pray, love one another, and draw close to God. It was a reminder that everything will be okay even if the outcomes of some circumstances in life are bad.
A month later, Mom, Dad, Matthew, David, and I found ourselves in a large crowded hall filled with hundreds of people waiting for the large doors at the end of the hall to open. As we stood amidst the crowd, we could hardly see over the many heads as the doors slowly opened up and dozens of brave men filed through the door and then in a moment were drawn into the arms of their many loved ones. Tears and laughter were everywhere.
We craned our necks, looking out over the crowds for a tall man with dark red hair and a look of determination on his face. Suddenly, someone caught sight of Aaron and called out “It’s Aaron”. Those two beautiful heart-wrenching words once again overwhelmed us and we were surprised by the joy that overtook our family. Mom, of course, claimed the first hug, but soon after I got in there and was hugged by my big brother. I wanted to hold onto him for much longer and never let him go again but I, of course, had to give everyone else their turn in hugging the red-headed soldier. I sighed as I watched him smile at all of us and he was already joking about the crowds of people in true Aaron-style.
He was home. --
I wrote this memoir a year and a half ago for a class about a time that I was "surprised by joy" in my life. The time I’ve written about was one which I will never forget. I hope that even though Remembrance Day has passed that you will continue to remember those who fought for our country, they put their lives on the line so that we could have freedom. It may have been WWI, WWII, the Vietnam war, or in Afghanistan - but many lives were lost and we must pay our respects for the bravery they have shown.
Lest We Forget.
Keep remembering. Keep supporting. Keep praying.
