Yesterday, I went to a Celebration of Life service for my Great Uncle Joe. I didn't know him well...in fact the last time I saw him, I was just a little girl. My only memory of him is how he and his wife, Dot, used to feed scraps right off their plates to their little dog Rocky...they loved that dog!
From conversation through the years, I knew that he was my Dad's favourite uncle...that he lived somewhere in Toronto...that he was a giant Toronto Maple Leaf fan. Dad joked he was holding out for the Leafs to win Stanley again.
I knew he was a veteran and always wore his medals.
I didn't 'know' him though. I find it sad that families grow so far apart, and you know, I really missed out.
During that half hour service, I learned so much about that man. The service was conducted with such dignity, as the Legion honoured their comrade one last time. It opened my eyes and filled my heart with pride.
As we entered the vestibule outside the chapel, we were greeted with Legion members who took our coats, shook our hands, and handed us a poppy to wear. Two police officers in full dress stood at attention at the entrance to the chapel. We quietly took our seats.
An old veteran stood in front of the coffin, gun ready, head lowered. He didn't move a muscle until the end of the service, but stood strong and steady, never flinching, vigilante in his duty to protect the fallen soldier.
Among those that had come to pay their final respects were family, friends, fellow veterans and members of the Legion, and police officers. We all stood through the opening prayers, reflected quietly as the solemn sound of Taps was played, and then we were asked to come forward and place our poppies on the velvet pillow that rested at the head of my Uncle's closed coffin. It was the most dignified, respectful, humble goodbye I had ever witnessed.
We took our seats as the Salvation Army minister began the service celebrating the life of Joseph Philip Sbrocchi.
Uncle Joe served with the 22nd Canadian Field Ambulance when they landed in Normandy. D-Day.
His spine was damaged by a bullet as German forces peppered Juno Beach with gunfire and mortars as 15,000 Canadians waded ashore. He was one of the lucky ones. Had that bullet hit him any higher, it would have torn him to pieces.
On June 6, 1999, Uncle Joe returned to Juno Beach with his fellow comrades.
This is the motocycle he road when he served.
God bless them.
On the 60th anniversary of D-Day, he met the newest addition of the Toronto Police Services Mounted Unit...a beautiful horse named Juno Beach, named in remembrance of the sacrifices made by all the brave men that day.
Uncle Joe was among 425,000 Allied and German troops that were killed, injured or missing during the Normandy campaign. I cannot, nor do I wish to, fully comprehend the horrors they witnessed, but I am so grateful, and so proud.
His giving did not end with the war. He had a very special relationship with his step-granddaughter, who he raised. He participated in many veteran day events, continuing to serve his community. He was a humble man who loved and protected .. who stood as a shining example of what we should all aspire to be.
At the age of 88, Uncle Joe passed away, and is no doubt reunited with the love of his life, Dorothy, but his legacy lives on.
For the men and women that serve both in the community and overseas, I can offer only my humble appreciation and admiration. I, for one, could not find the strength to do what you do, or what you have done.
To Uncle Joe, I wish I had known you, but I hope you know, that I am proud of all you have done.
REST IN PEACE
