Permanent Ink

My love of pens have been around ever since I learned how to write.  Growing up, I seldom used pencils except when it was absolutely necessary to do so (drawing, math).  I would use pens, regardless of how many times I would have to cross out mistakes, or, as I became older, used correction tape.  In terms of my preference, I liked 0.7 mm over 0.5 mm because I wanted my work to leave a mark- literally and metaphorically.

Quite reflective of the weather of the past few days here in Vancouver, this week has been long and dreary.  I felt as if I was slugging myself through, and somewhat felt hopeless.  I just wanted to retreat into a place where I can just rest for a while.  Thankfully, this school week was only four days, as the teachers have their Professional Development today.  That enlightened me to a great extent.  On Wednesday, however, the power outage that affected several areas in the Lower Mainland had also inflicted my school; thus, classes were cancelled that day.  As my brother and I waited for this news, which was not announced until about 9 AM, I came downstairs as my parents ate breakfast.  The TV was mere background noise as I pled for school to be closed- I wanted to avoid a presentation of a theoretical bill for socials class.  Suddenly, my ears propped up to the news of a shooting in Ottawa at Parliament Hill.  At the time, I did not understand what was happening- all I heard was a soldier gunned down at point-blank. I mistakenly thought he survived his attack then just kind of shrugged it off.  Of course, this was not the case, and I learned the details of this saddening event the day after his death- after his family lost a son, a husband, and a father.

It’s both fascinating and disappointing how many times we fail to recognize the value of our lives.  Caught up in our challenges and whatever we may lack, we become ignorant to the fact that we only have a set amount of pages in our books. I am inspired by the two selfless men who have died with honour in what they did and how they cared for those around them; two men who wrote their story in permanent ink with a 0.7 mm pen, who made a mark not only in their own life but in the lives of others.

They provided me with an inspiration to continue writing my own story.

A story worth telling.

Thoughts and prayers to the families of Cpl. Nathan Cirillo and Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent.  Thank you for your love of serving the country.  May you both rest in peace.


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