Our life is short and tedious, and in the death of a man there is no remedy: neither was there any man known to have returned from the grave.
For we are born at all adventure: and we shall be hereafter as though we had never been: for the breath in our nostrils is as smoke, and a little spark in the moving of our heart:
Which being extinguished, our body shall be turned into ashes, and our spirit shall vanish as the soft air,
And our name shall be forgotten in time, and no man shall have our works in remembrance, and our life shall pass away as the trace of a cloud, and shall be dispersed as a mist, that is driven away with the beams of the sun, and overcome with the heat thereof.
For our time is a very shadow that passeth away; and after our end there is no returning: for it is fast sealed, so that no man cometh again.
Book of Wisdom (II:2-5)
Lest we forget
I painted this poppy in commemoration of my father’s service. He was not a war veteran, but he was the head doctor for the veterans of BC. He cared for their health, travelled with them to France to Vimy Ridge, to England to be presented to the queen and he knew all their names. They loved him and he called them his “old boys”. He cared for them in that village doctor way which doesn’t happen anymore. Today I’m thankful I never sold this painting.
Such a beautiful painting. I have early memories of seeing veterans with the paper poppies in their lapels. Thank you for sharing the beautiful story of your father’s service.
Thank you Michelle. Today was such an emotional day for me. Big tears as soon as I heard the pipe and drums. Very beautiful and moving.
Hugs to you m’dear Veronica. Tears always come on this day and I’m grateful for the emotion stirred in me. It’s powerful and I won’t ever forget!!! I didn’t remember your father’s story. Thank you…xo
This is ABSOLUTELY beautiful, Veronica, and so touching. Your photographs are lovely … your painting brought me to tears. I read something about the symbolism of poppies recently; I can’t remember where, or what, exactly, but no matter … this was wonderful.
Such a lovely painting! And what a touching story about your father; it made me teary Sending hugs.
Aw thank you Linda. My father was very dedicated to the veterans. He really cared for them.
Thank you Khara. I know I should be selling my paintings but some I just can’t part with. You probably know that feeling, you know, like some poems which are so loved and hard won and private? I have some of those too.
Hugs back to you Jules! I was thinking of you and your father there in Victoria Park yesterday. Miss you two. Much love.
Love the painting and then I love the straw hat one of the men was wearing… rather interesting.
{{{{HUGS}}}} for the loving memory of your dad.