Remembrance

Tonight I'm readying myself to stand at the war memorial in the morning. I used to go with my grandad, a WWI veteran, and my dad, who fought in WWII. I went with them as a boy because they told me it was important to remember their mates who were wounded and killed. Later, I learned it was also to honour all victims of war. But dad and grandad are gone now, so it can seem lonely, except I go in their memory, sometimes even carry one of their medals so I can remember when we stood together.
It can also feel lonely for other reasons, too. Mainly because I remember when a poppy was a symbol of suffering and loss, not something you felt compelled to wear for the sake of appearances, or to show 'respect' to a far right group that my dad would have raged over.
He was a proud Legion member. And I remember when the Legion didn't go in for a self-appointed guardian role, or or accept sponsorship deals from arms dealers, but existed to look after those who fought, as it did when they helped secure dad's war pension for hearing loss.
So remember tomorrow, remember the lost and maimed, the fatherless and orphaned, the bereaved parents, the widows - from all sides. Yes, that's another lesson I learned from my grandad: there are no 'winners' in a war - no matter what politicians, of all shades, tell you. He knew it for real: on a road leading from Macedonia into Bulgaria at the end of September 1918, he saw the Bulgarian Army surrender:

To us they looked to be either young boys or old men, starving, dressed in rags. They just threw their guns on a pile at the side of the road and shuffled off into the distance.

That was war to him, a cruel waste of life, of people and land. War was fear, suffering and loss - he taught me and I remember. Tomorrow, I will remember.