Somehow finding the words

Yesterday I went to the ceremony celebrating the life of my father who passed away on April 1st, 2006.

It was a nice ceremony, and the church was packed. I didn't dare look back to see, but one gentleman came and told us he hadn't seen the church that full in the 50 years he had been going to the church.

I think that alone speaks volumes about the man my father was.

For me personally one of the things I have often thought about,(particularly as I have just been overseas and something which reinforced my feeling of being Canadian) was how the love I feel for Canada came from my dad. He was the one who forced us through French immersion, something for which I am especially grateful now that I live in Ottawa. He was so proud of this country, in a way only somebody who chose to come in here, made this place home out of all the other options he had to choose from. Unlike many of his countrymen he specifically chose Canada. He met Pierre Trudeau when he was on a trip through Guyana where he was born. He always talked about being a Trudeau Liberal.

These are the things that cannot be passed down. Those us who have grown up here, can't have quite the same undertstanding of what it means to be Canadian as those who have chosen to be here. It's just one of those things, immigrants have always given meaning to Canada, something those us born here just can't quite grasp.

It was fitting as well that on the memorial board at the reception after the service, that one of the pictures was my dad smiling (as he always was) and clutching his Canadian citizenship papers.