It’s
goodbye season again; that time of year when many parents have recently sent
their adult children off to school or jobs. While it is a season of renewal and
excitement for young folks, it can also trigger feelings of loss and sadness
for those of us with the empty bedrooms.
But
what do I really know about sorrow? Last week I enjoyed time at a beach,
playing with my three-year-old grandson. I was thinking of another
three-year-old boy on a far away beach; that profoundly moving photo.
It
was heartbreaking to hear his father interviewed. The poor man has no desire
for a new life in a new country now. He has buried his wife and sons and wants
to spend the rest of his life near their graves. Such is the power of love and
loss. If I felt sad to see my grown son drive away to a new job, how does this
man feel, to say goodbye to his three most important people, forever?
I
was lucky enough to spend some time at a couple of cottages this summer. One of
them, had problems with the water supply and the fridge. The noisy pump, which
brought water in from the lake, did not always function properly and for the
first time, I experienced taps with no water. When the pump was functioning we
boiled water to wash the dishes.
Once
home, basking in the luxury of hot and cold running water, we turned on our TV.
We saw the images of all those refugees, those long lines of people, walking
forever, carrying children, crawling under barbed wire, screaming in desperation
when soldiers attempted to hold them back. How grateful would they be to have
that cottage? Can we ever imagine how much they are suffering? Where are they
getting their water? What are they eating?
At
a gathering earlier this summer, I heard someone remark, “I don’t know why we
let those people into our country?” I am ashamed to admit that I was so taken
aback that I said nothing. When we look back to the Second World War and recall
the ships of Jews that Canada turned away, it seems unbelievable. So here we
are again. How will we respond this time?
Our
world, our country has changed profoundly. The white/ English/French Ottawa
that I grew up in during the 50’s and 60’s has disappeared. Ottawa, like most
Canadian communities, is becoming increasingly multi-cultural.
Once
a month I volunteer at our local library, hosting an English conversation group
for newcomers to Canada. It’s nothing fancy, just an opportunity for people to
drop in and practice speaking English for an hour and a half.
I answer any questions they may have
about Ottawa. We talk about food, families, their countries, and of course, Canada’s
weather. At our last session one young man had taken a bus for an hour, just to
attend the group.
I’ve
met people from many countries and heard many stories. These brave people have
given up so much for the opportunity to come here and restart their lives. Last
week I said goodbye to my son for a few months but these people have said good-bye
to their country, their familiar surroundings and most painful of all, to their
families.
Here
in Canada we are starting a new season. Along with the renewal of our usual
fall activities, maybe we need to add a new item to our to do lists:
What
can we do to help these people?
