A Time to Remember

I can still remember my first ever visit to The Somme and other battlefields in France and Belgium.  The sheer scale of the dead and their sacrifice, so that we can lead the lives we do today was astonishing, heartbreaking and humbling.  I went on to sell poppies in the street but always wished I could do more.

I vaguely remember asking my lovely Grandad about his time in the war and he would brush me off saying 'oh you don't want to know about that'.  I was too young to understand that it was too painful for him to talk about.  Like most soldiers, he didn't want or need to be heroic, although I feel my Grandad and the many many, too many, like him were, and are, heros of the highest order. 

This week I have been listening to a radio show (link) with mother's of soldiers talking about their incredible sons and the music that they loved.  It has moved me so deeply and I feel so indebted to these incredible men and women and their families who have lost so much in the hope of helping others to a better life. 

I find it so hard to listen to the personal stories. The pride mixed with the devastation as they talk about the young men that they brought into this world and loved beyond anything imaginable.  The agony of being told that they have been killed. Agony.

I will always wear my poppy with pride and be so humbled, thankful and indebted to the amazing people that make the ultimate sacrifice.
xx