ANZAC day, and we should remember, with respect, what our forebears did for us.
For me, I remember my Grandad … but I remember him, and miss him, nearly everyday.
Some of that remembrance is regret; wishing I had listened; taken more notice; appreciated every little thing. But the cruel irony of losing someone, or the past; is we usually don’t get it until way after the fact.
Grandad headed off to the 2nd World War at the tender age of 16 … following his brothers, he thought it’d be an adventure that would last a couple of months. Unfortunately, it didn’t finish till five years after he went.
He didn’t talk about the War much through our life time … and I get that now. He would’ve had PTSD … they all would’ve come home with it. But they didn’t come home to therapy or a designated shrink … they came home and got on with it. Because they had too. For that, I am forever appreciative to my Grandad. I also now, feel a profound empathetic respect for him.
Years later, he was involved in a TV interview, where he talks about War being futile … that as long as ‘they’ made ammunitions there was always going to be war.
How right was he.
So this is what we did today … we looked over Grandads photos; went through and watched all his old Monte Cassino documentaries; his trip to Cassino; and his old interview … we laughed, cried, reminisced and told Moko about Grandad.
For our soldiers who didn’t come home, and to all the soldiers who did and handled their business, raised their families, did their jobs … and suffered in silence.
WE WILL REMEMBER THEM