Day of Mourning
Let there be light
It’s hard to know what to say, write, and feel about the National Day of Mourning this particular year when it seems like every day has been just that. Since COVID-19, and more recently the massacre here, in my home province of Nova Scotia, the experience of mourning seems constant.
Honestly, as of late, I am waking and choosing the peaceful piano playlist on Spotify over social media, and CBC… at least until noon. I figure the bad news will be there then, whether I’m ready for it or not.
It feels unfamiliar to communicate to you in this tone – one of some sadness and helplessness. The words don’t feel like mine when I write them. My feelings don’t feel like mine as I’m feeling them, but I suspect that when we are living in a world we can barely recognize, foreign emotions are to be expected.
While the magnitude of loss and suffering feel insurmountable in this moment in time – the collective gratitude and goodness continues to conquer. I see it every day. Acts of kindness performed from a distance, making us feel closer. Music being made and funds being raised to support where it’s needed – which is everywhere. Candles being lit, music everywhere, hockey sticks being tapped (a truly Canadian way to show support) and pots being banged each evening – rallying for our front line workers who are tirelessly tackling this pandemic.
Heroes. That’s what they are, these brave people who are leaving their families at home and working tirelessly to protect us, hoping to return safely. The reality is that in these valiant efforts to answer the call of duty to save lives, many are still being lost.
We hear it everyday, “we are all in this together” – and it’s true. We will celebrate with a hug when we are once again allowed to embrace our loved ones.
For today, on this Day of Mourning, I will hold close to my heart those who have not returned home from work. I will pray for those who have been left waiting for the hug that will never happen.
For today, I will leave a candle burning in the window throughout the day and the night in honor of those who aren’t coming home, and to light the way for those who are.
For today, I will bang my pot on the porch at 7 pm for the safe return home of our frontline workers. I don’t know if banging pots on a Day of Mourning is the appropriate thing to do – but I do know that in a time where we may feel at a loss in knowing what feels “right” – we still can do something, and that’s not nothing.