Today is the day we remember our fallen soldiers and those who continue to serve our country. On Dec 30, 2009 I lost my friend Sgt. George Miok when his vehicle was hit by an IED in Afghanistan. I received the horrific news late that night and will never forget that moment. I have known George and his family since I was a little girl. My brother and I, along with George and his three brothers grew up together in the Hungarian community in Edmonton. I had the privilege of getting to know George through Hungarian Folk Dancing. We found ourselves to be partners many, many times.
George was an amazing person. His smile would light up the room where ever he went. He was funny, smart, athletic and a really good person. I loved dancing with him, because we laughed and had so much fun together. He made dance practices fun. He had a way of always cheering you up and you knew that he always had your back. The picture to the right is of George in 1999 during our dance group trip to Hungary.
This is one of my favorite pictures of George. It sums him up perfectly: always smiling and loving Pilsner!!! 🙂
Sadly, one of my last memories of George is at his going away party 10 years ago. I believe he was off to Afghanistan for his first tour. I remember telling him to please come home safely and he promised he would. Thankfully he did come back from that tour.
The George that I knew would not want us to cry, or be sad or to be angry, he would want us to remember him and to celebrate this life. I see it as my son having a guardian angel. I believe he is looking down at us, smiling and taking care of us. I find solace knowing that George is in a better place. Death is always hardest on the living. Where you are, it’s always “Rye Time” 🙂 Tushie!!!!
Below is the last picture I have of George taken at my moving to Vancouver party.
I dedicate this blog to all those who sacrificed their lives for me, my family and my country. I would like to end this blog with a famous poem by John McCrae called In Flanders Fields.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
– John McCrae