Tonight I sit at my window and look out over the finally-finished park that houses the Canadian Firefighters' Memorial. It is lovely. Just the peaceful, thought-provoking place we hoped it would eventually become. I know I've moaned about it before---it seemed to be so noisy in growing, and so dusty and unpleasant to the eye. Then, in a matter of weeks, everything fell into place.
This afternoon there was a practice of the ceremony that will happen here tomorrow. Four hundred firemen, in all manner of dress, and in a windy heavy rain, marched down from Parliament Hill to the gathering place near the bronze fireman and pole, while their families, their bus-drivers and people in our building watched them move through their parade procedures---some of us, and I imagine some of them, tearful.
The ceremony tomorrow will feature our Governor-General officially opening the site, and a memorial service for those firefighters that have died since the ceremony they had on the barely-turned turf last year.
I'll post some photos if I'm not overwhelmed. I don't know why I find this so emotional---I was 68 before I actually met a firefighter.