325 Senior Essay, Third Place Esmé Schovanek, Branch #134 - Malahat Legion Remembrance Day Essay I worry that many of us youth have been desensitized to war. We learn about it in our classes, we commemorate soldiers each year, but most of us haven't felt the direct effects of war. We can't seem to fathom the depths of it. I certainly didn't think I had. My day to day life is privileged and fun, I live freely and openly. I have never worried about my country or it's military and I have never even seen a real gun before. So, if all of this is true, then I guess war must really not have affected me personally at all, right? But then I remember that there is a reason why my dad doesn't talk about his brother. A brother he was close with, a brother he loves, a brother he bonded with just like I have done with my own. A brother who was torn apart by war. So, I am indeed wrong to say that war hasn't caused suffering in my life. War took away a man who I could've known; it took away a brother and made him a survivor. I look back and think about what I know of my uncle. His name is Matthew Schovanek and he has red hair. He suffered near-fatal head injuries when he served as a peacekeeper in Bosnia. These injuries damaged his frontal lobes and have left him severely disabled, that’s where it ends. My father doesn't speak much about what happened and he would never expect that this has had its effects on me. How could I mourn the loss of someone who I never really knew? Well, it's not the loss I am mourning, instead it is the fact that I never even got the chance to know him which continuously drags me down every November when we pay our respects to noble people like Matt. When the accident took place in Bosnia, Matt was only 24 years old. My brother Ethan has just turned 24 himself and I am still getting to know him. He is still becoming a fully formed version of himself, ever changing and developing. I couldn't imagine the heartache of seeing my brother in a state like Matt's, but that is exactly what my father had to endure. I have met Matt once, a few years ago, on his fiftieth birthday. I was nervous leading up to it and didn't know what to expect. My uncle cannot walk on his own and he is legally blind. Due to the damage in his frontal lobes communication can be difficult. I was really anxious as my dad led me over to be introduced to him. We spoke briefly but I had been prepared for the connection to be difficult between us. That was until Matt took my hand and began to trace his fingers on my palm. The moment brought tears to my eyes which I desperately wanted to hide from my father. After our moment had passed I was
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