I didn’t know Guy Lafleur personally, I don’t have a hockey card signed by him, but I’m a complete fan. From pre-adolescence to the end of high school, I never missed a Canadian game. I listened to it on the radio or watched it on TV, living this effervescence between my math homework and my obligatory readings ofAgaguk and D’A season in the life of Emmanuel.
Posted at 12:00 p.m.
I had lined a wall of my room with all the photos of the Canadiens players and that of Guy Lafleur sat in the middle. He was my hero of impossible missions, like scoring a goal 74 seconds from a playoff elimination in 1979.
Since April 22, all this obsessive admiration for “Lafleur” has resurfaced. Like many fans, I listened to his interviews again and watched clips of his best goals over and over.
In quick succession, I skipped school twice at McGill University to go offer my condolences to his family at the Bell Center and to watch his funeral with watery eyes in front of the forecourt of Marie-Marie Cathedral. Queen of the World. And during this hour and a half of contemplation, I thought of Guy Lafleur and his legacy of humanity, humility and extraordinary generosity, in addition to his exceptional talent and his grace as a hockey player. I also thought about all those other early loss of life. Everything got mixed up in my heavy heart.
PHOTO YURIY DYACHYSHYN, AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE
The Lychakiv Cemetery in the city of Lviv, Ukraine
I thought of the Ukraine where I have just spent a few weeks and its early deaths with these images of mutilated, perforated bodies which pile up on our television or computer screens. Anonymous, counted coldly. Nine civilians died in fierce shelling in the Donetsk region. No funeral, no burial. Many have died and will die for their country, an everyday heroic gesture on Ukrainian soil. And soon, this heartbreaking media coverage will become a news item between an article on the REM and another on the judgment of Roe v. wade protecting the right to abortion in the United States.
I thought of the 15,000 Quebecers who died from COVID-19. A digital barrier crossed a few days ago. I’m not getting used to the idea of the excruciating deaths from hunger and thirst that some of our elderly relatives have suffered, immersed in covid loneliness at the first wave.
I thought back to all those funerals postponed during the pandemic where these suspended bereavements made us feel like the ghosts of loved ones couldn’t leave us anymore.
Whether it is for a mega non-standard being like Guy Lafleur or a dying elderly person isolated in a CHSLD or a Ukrainian, dead standing, to save his homeland, the duty of remembrance towards the deceased is essential, even vital. It gives value to their life lost too soon. It is by inscribing in the collective memory of people and their stories that we will humanly honor their memory and learn from their experiences that will make history.
Death is not a news item. Death should not be trivialized. Guy Lafleur marked a generation and a people with his extreme talent on the ice and his star know-how. He was offered a state funeral to mark the occasion. It was necessary to make us accept his premature departure. For Ukraine, we must continue to speak about it with humanity, because it is by speaking assiduously about this conflict that it will remain a central subject which we must tackle, both politically and legally. And for our 15,000 Quebecers who died of COVID-19, we must remember and, above all, learn from this tragic pandemic sequence. We must not commit the double fault, that of not having been ready from wave to wave and that of not learning from wave to wave.
That’s what it’s for, the duty of memory.