A middle-aged man struggles to climb the stairs to Place du Centenaire. He really doesn’t want to talk. “I’m too excited, Madame,” he blurts out with great gentleness in his voice. Collective mourning is not so much mourning.
In front of the Bell Center, thousands of people quietly wait in line. Is it the heat of spring that is so long overdue? Is it the relatively calm of the heart of the city every Sunday morning? One thing is certain, there comes from the quiet majority of a gentle sorrow, tinged with a very delicate joy; perhaps the last reunion for Guy Lafleur, but especially Guy Lafleur.
The family of Jamie Duckett, 66, decided to leave Quebec during the Quiet Revolution and the rise of Quebec nationalism. My mother is a unilingual English speaker, my parents decided to live in Ontario, but I have always kept my attachment to this city and the Montreal Canadiens.he said, his hand on his heart. Guy Lafleur is idolized by Anglophone youth as much as Francophone children; a meeting place between two solituderecollection of Mr. Duckett, added, in English: Cole Caufield is great, but it’s not the same.
In the crowd, a few steps away, Jean-François Fleury, 46, a nurse, bought coffees at the local McDo. He gave it to those following him in the queue. However, he did not know them, but he had a desire to make a small act of generosity; little caffeine this Sunday morning of a large, quiet meeting. It’s a function of memory, which is here. This is a moment in Quebec history. No more, people like that that death will affect everyone. Maybe when Ginette Reno died? Celine Dion?
Marc-André Gagnon, 71, was slowly drinking coffee offered by his next neighbor. Guy Lafleur commands respect. And respect, he lacks that now. Very superficial, people with no self -respectphilosopher said the man from Mirabel.
Behind them, Nadine Pelletier tells us that this peaceful gathering made her forget the war, the pandemic and the atrocities of the past two years, but most of all she was here because her father loved Guy so much. Lafleur. A collective mourning is driven by very personal nostalgia. Beautiful moments in front of the TV with a father, a brother, a wife who is gone … Many women waiting in line told us about it. Man, man, manit is a small part of their life with someone they love.
For Twagili Mana, 53, born in Rwanda, Guy Lafleur is the memory of his arrival in Quebec in 1989; his discovery in this strange game on ice. I don’t know hockeyhe recalls, mimicking a slap shot and proudly wearing a Nordiques jersey, saying he hoped he would live again.
Saying goodbye to Guy Lafleur is also, for many admirers, saying goodbye to the incarnation of their past youth. Most of the people in line are no longer very young. A 91 -year -old man traveled from Tracadie, New Brunswick; this another 86 years old descends from Bas-du-Fleuve. Talking to people, we realized that a surprising number of them had a photo with Guy Lafleur, who had met at the restaurant, on the street, at an event.
To mention former Quebec Premier René Lévesque, if Quebec is something like a great manGuy Lafleur would not be a great man whose stature removes him from ordinary mortals, but like a big man, as long as everyone, on this esplanade, in this crowd, speaks of him as a humble and accessible hero. They loved his mistakes, his weaknesses; they followed him in his embarrassment.
I started liking Guy Lafleur when the Canadiens forced him out of the teamspontaneous confession of a man in his fifties who had been waiting several hours to greet his idol one last time. In Quebec, we don’t like that, the peteux de broue … Our heroes are close to the people, and Guy, he’s the last of our heroes.he said with a resigned smile, before advancing to the line that began to enter the Ardent Chapel.
At the Bell Center ice rink that sank into darkness, Guy Lafleur’s mother stood and shook hands with guests next to her son’s coffin. When we were there, the rest of the family was sitting, moving, and warmly thanking everyone who came to say goodbye to the giant, the hero however was a man who loved a woman and had children, parents.
Collective mourning is not so much an intimate mourning.
Source: Radio-Canada
