Dianne, Chris, Edith and I took pictures outside the museum. We posed with the compass and met with the museum staff. With heavy hearts, we handed over the compass to be placed on exhibit. I guess I had grown a little attached to it. In the month that I had it at my house, I was proud to share its story with anyone who visited. During a cookout we had a week before I left, I found myself with a captive audience as I told my guests the tale of Empress of Ireland. It was heart-wrenching to know that I would probably never touch the compass again. In such a short time it had become such an important part of my life. It was the reason we were all here, having traveled thousands of miles collectively to be at this museum. It was hard to let go, while at the same time a source of great pride knowing that I had helped return this piece of history to its rightful home. |
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The serenity of this place makes it hard to believe its connection to such a horrible tragedy. Standing at the base of the lighthouse, Chris and I discussed the surreal nature of the moment. Here we were, two people who would have never crossed paths had it not been for my Web site, and we were standing together on the shore of the St. Lawrence, looking out at the spot where Empress of Ireland went down. For each of us it was a dream come true. |
| Our reverie was interrupted by Dianne, who insisted that we visit the gift shop before returning to the hotel to change for the ceremony. After spending a small fortune, we returned to Rimouski with less than an hour to spare before having to be back at the museum. |
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