I, along with many others I am sure, have found the days since the Humboldt Broncos Hockey teams tragic accident very emotionally difficult. The outpouring of all facets of support from letters of condolences, memorials, monetary donations, influentially identifiable persons, to simply leaving a hockey stick out by the door...”for the boys “ ...has not only, I believe, supported a community but galvanized a province, country and all four corners of the world.
For all those whom this has affected in one way or another it is because there is a kinship of sorts. For most, we can remember those days of early morning practices, multiple game tournaments ,be it either coaching , playing, or just being a supportive family member or fan. The bonding experiences of a bus road trip to communities struggling to survive where the rink is the only communal and social bond to the area. Remembering the best burgers and fries in the smallest natural ice rinks where there was always a smile and a welcome. The camaraderie and lasting friendships is what all sports bring. It is not only the competiveness during the event, but it is the social ties that last a lifetime after.
So it is no wonder why the world grieves in it’s own way for all of those affected in Humboldt, because there is a little piece of Humboldt in all of us that makes us realize that life is precious.
We will never know or understand the reasons why those who were taken so early from those whom loved them so much. To have some solace knowing that each and everyone on that bus had spread their wing tips and absorbed the colours of life and were very generous and rich when it came to giving in return. Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take ...but by the moments that take our breaths away. The passing of those loved ones has left all us without a breath for the moment, but if and when recalling those times that their presence or word touched your lives, those are the times that will continue to take your breath away and bring a thoughtful tear or smile to ones heart. As long as there are memories in ones heart, those who have left us will never be forgotten.
A thought my father once told me....the clock of life is wound but once and no person has the power to tell just when the hands of time will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own! Live, love, toil with a will and purpose, place no faith in tomorrow, for the clock may then be still. Prairie people through the annuals of history have always been there for one another. Be it barn raisings or seeding and harvest, that willingness to help is what makes us all strong and the ability to survive... and we will all , eventually, survive.
