There is something both hopeful and melancholy, timeless yet, "of that time" about this piece that drew me to it for this centenary remembrance day.
There are few that have not some connection to someone from either of the world wars or the conflicts between and after them. Those who fought, those who waited, those who mourned. Those who died, those who were damaged outside and in, those who survived and those who could live their lives as they would due to others sacrifice.
This is a picture of my paternal grandfather, a boy soldier.
He came home from World War One.
This is my maternal grandfather in his Home Guard uniform, he was eight at the start of World War One, he as his father before him was a miner.
Great Uncles, cousins, aunts, uncles, all with stories. Some they never would tell.
We owe them so much.
On the 100th eleventh hour, of the eleventh day of the eleventh month I will be participating in the remembrance parade in my home town. A remembrance of all that was given and of the responsibility that lies with those of us who remain.
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