As a child, I often found myself switching off when my dad started “going on” about Remembrance Sunday. It was that classic youthful rebellion—rejecting anything to do with history, duty, or sacrifice, and of course, anything my parents told me to care about.
We couldn’t help but snigger when he pulled out his knitted tie and polished his shoes, ready for the parade he often helped coordinate. At the time, it all felt distant, almost theatrical.
But one thing I’ve realized, especially after losing someone you love, is how much of their character seems to live on in you. It’s as if those traits are quietly passed down, becoming a part of who you are.
Now, as a parent, I find myself in my dad’s shoes—both literally and figuratively. Persuading my own kids to dress up smart and take part in the Remembrance Sunday parade with their beaver pack. Reminding them of their great-great-grandfather who died in the war so they could live in freedom. Crying quietly at the sound of the Scottish pipe band, which also played at my dad’s funeral.
I understand now what my dad was trying to teach us: the importance of remembering those sacrifices, of having a sense of history, and of understanding our place in time.
It’s not just about looking back; it’s about seeing how future generations carry these traditions forward, often in their own, unique ways.
- Watching little toddler C shout “poppies!” while lolling on the village green and stroking every dog she could find—even during the two-minute silence.
- Seeing little J walking sideways in the parade so he could keep an eye on me.
- Finding little O creating a special poppy, unprompted, out of his beloved Numberblocks.
These moments are their own kind of remembrance—a blend of innocence, curiosity, and respect. They’re a reminder that the act of remembering isn’t static; it evolves, just like we do.
Remembrance Sunday is about honouring the past, but it’s also about appreciating how those values of sacrifice, duty, and love continue to shape our present and future.
So yes, I’ve come full circle. And I couldn’t be prouder.