Day 2: Lest We Forget

What I wore today

Well, I've made it to day 2 of the project. Day 2 is about what I'm wearing. For once, it's not my usual uniform of jeans and a cotton shirt, which is pretty handy really as it's ANZAC day here in Australia.

We have a family tradition of going to an ANZAC service every year. One of the boys wears the Love of my Life's grandfather's medals, and the other wears my grandfather's epaulette. Both of us had grandfathers that saw active service in different countries in WWII (mine saw active service in WWI and some of the Indo-China conflicts too), so ANZAC day is significant and moving for us.

We've made it to a few dawn services, but more often than not, we go for the services that are a bit later in the morning. The services are always moving, current and ex-servicemen and women will tell of their experiences or the experiences of some member of their family. It's hard, when you have boys, not to think of those grieving mothers and wives, those very young men and women who gave so bravely of their own lives in order to preserve the freedoms that we enjoy. It's a wonderful reminder that our lives, the things we take for granted, the freedoms we enjoy were paid for with the ultimate sacrifice of many. And it's an opportunity to honour that and give thanks to those who sacrificed so much.

As a migrant to this country, I find the meaning of the day is in no way diminished. Instead, it has become for me, a day of reflection, of understanding what it is my parents sought when they came here, and of appreciating the liberties and choices that I and my children now have.

Without fail, every year, as the Last Post plays on the bugle, I dissolve into a wash of tears. This year was no different. I managed to hold my emotions in check through the heart-rending stories, through the calls to remember those who had died and those still engaged in conflicts around the world, through the reminders of the luxuries we enjoy and the rebuilding and good works our service people conduct throughout the world. But the first tremulous notes of the Last Post begin and I find great, fat, warm, wet tears snaking their way down my cheeks.

To all of those who sacrificed their lives so that Australia could afford us the freedoms we enjoy, and to all of those who continue to heed the call of duty of our nation, I thank you.

Ode of Remembrance (stanza 4):

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Lest We Forget