Lest We Forget

This past Sunday was Remembrance Sunday. It is one of the few days we have in the UK where things slow down and people begin to appreciate the delicate, fragile lives that were taken so cruelly and prematurely- snatched from the world before their stories were quite finished- because of war.
War is a horrific thing. It tears through countries, destroying the lives of those it touches. It can rip through a household- traumatize children, leaving them crying out for parents that will never come home, take a son from a mother, leaving her soul mutilated with emotional pain; having to bury her baby.
I stood at the cenotaph in my hometown, watched the parade and listened to the memorials for those lives lost in the war all those years ago, and those who are still losing their lives to protect us now. As I watched a 7-year-old lay a reef for her big brother, killed in action just four weeks ago, I felt sorrow, I felt anguish and I felt anger.
I felt a lot of anger, for many reasons. I felt anger for the speaker, having to give the incident the label 'unfortunate'. I know that that's the term for it in the army, but it angered me that a precious, loving life was lost and described as simply: 'unfortunate'. I felt anger that a little girl had to say goodbye to her brother for the last time before she even reached the ever-important 'double digits' age. I felt so much anger that nearly 100 years on from the second worst confrontation in the history of war, almost 90 years on since the worst confrontation in the same history, we are still living in a world where the arrogance and stupidity of mankind still kills so many beautiful people each day.

I was also, however, amazed at the respect on the occasion- of humans and animals alike. People of all backgrounds, coming together to spend a moment remembering treacherous war crimes we must never forget. Bickering siblings, pausing to question the change of mood: the silent parade of comrades; the candles lit in cathedrals; the families, gathered and weeping by the stone statue in the town square. Criminals, silencing themselves for a few minutes to remember those who gave lives for their own protection, when they themselves perhaps acted so stupidly in a moment of disregard for others of their own kind. I stood and watched a dog sit patiently, silently, watching it's owner as a tear made it's way over the contours of her wizened face. The dog laid itself aside and sat loyally by her. He looked almost expectant. He was determined to comfort her, had she needed him to.

The occasion put a mixture of emotions on my heart, all of which rooted themselves into my mind and in my heart, a burning passion which decided for me that I should write about it.

So I did.

Lest we forget those Heroes who gave their today for our tomorrow.