This was really nice to see. Thank you for putting this page up. My grandfather, Ronald F. Hawkins, passed away three years ago on November 9th and was buried on Rememberance Day. He served in the Second World War and fought for many veterans' rights, including pensions for their families. He also wrote and published three books to share his experiences of the war and those of other soldiers. Thank you again for putting this up. Since I cannot be home for the ceremony, in some way even seeing your uncle's letters felt like another way to be connected to it.

My son, chosen and loved,
Let your mother share your wounds
And since, my dear son,
I have always kept you in my heart,
And loyally served you,
Speak to your mother,
make her happy ,
Though, my cherished hope,
you are now leaving me.

"No, Mother, do not weep,
Most chaste Queen of Heaven
Help me always.
Hail Mary."

Where has he gone,
My dearest son?
Killed by the harsh enemy, perhaps,
In the rebellion.
You bad people,
In the name of the Holy God,
Tell me why you killed
My dear son.

Will I have his protection,
Even if I weep
My old eyes away,
Or if my bitter tears
Were to make another River Oder,
They would not bring back
My son to life.

He lies in the grave
I know not where
Though I ask people
Everywhere
Perhaps the poor boy
Lies in a rough trench
Instead of lying, as he might,
In a warm bed.

Sing for him,
Little song-birds of God,
For his mother
Cannot find him.
And God's little flowers,
May you bloom all around
So that my son
May sleep happily.

- From Henryk Gorecki's stunningly beautiful Symphony No. 3.

Although certainly sorrowful, these diverse texts are linked by the theme of motherhood and motherly love. There is hope and joy, yearning and loss, tenderness and ultimately peace in this music.

I listen to it every morning of November 11, as I wake in solitude to clean my long black coat, before I fix my little poppy on the pocket and walk to the ceremony near Parliament Hill.

Beautiful. Keeping history present. Thanks.