Those of you who have been with me for a while may remember that every Poppy Day (Remembrance Day) in England, my father would proudly wear a poppy and visit the cenotaph. He never missed it. Never. It was his own way of remembering his friends and comrades lost in arms. Always guilty and always grateful, that he returned home to his family.
Even though Dad has been dead for some 30 years, I never let this day go without paying tribute to those we have lost. As the War to End All Wars fades and we are now 72 years away from the end of WW2, it becomes so important to remember those brave souls who lost their lives so that we could live ours. It's also important to remember those who have lost their lives in war since. It truly is a day that we should all take the time to remember and to honor them.
I decided to share my friend Pammie's poem again this year. It so poignantly captures the essence of so many of those soldiers who lost their lives, especially in WW1. Young men from working class homes who never truly knew life, but were exposed to hell in the trenches. Never to return home.