Anzac Day is an emotional day for many Aussies, me included. My great-grandfather was an Anzac digger. He brought home incredible photographs of the pyramids in Egypt and many other places his travels took him whilst serving during World War One. They are very faded now, as are the stories that died with him. I never knew him, although my mum remembers her grandfather as an exceptionally gentle, quiet man. There was a restored photograph that always hung in my grandparents' house, large and framed, sepia tone. It showed a very young man, dressed in the Anzac uniform, the badge of the rising sun on his hat. He had a slight smile in a kind face, one which looked very similar to the son he would return home to father.
It has always been something I've found hard to fathom - the thought of letting your son, brother or husband go off to war in a time when travel was by ship, telephones were a luxury found rarely, and letters were the main form of communication. The horrors of war that we learned in history lessons never failed to send shivers right through me. The strength of the men and women who either went to war, or stayed at home to keep the home fires burning, is astounding to say the least.
Today, I clutched my five year old son tightly as we listened to 'The Last Post' being bugled before the Essendon / Collingwood match. I always struggle to keep my composure during this particular piece of music - I don't know whether it's a past life coming back to remind me, or just the knowledge of what it represents, but without fail, tears will prick my eyes and my nose and chin wobble uncontrollably. While we stood together, watching the silent people on the screen, Jack asked me why nobody was talking. It took me a good few minutes to speak. It didn't help that one palm was placed firmly on his little sparrow-like rib cage, and the other was wrapped around his torso. It didn't help that while I held him, I could only think of other mothers who had held their small sons in a similar way, before they grew up and went away, never to return. It didn't help that, even though we live in a peaceful country now, there is no guarantee that one day, my son might join the ranks of his great-great-grandfather and leave this place to fight for the right to live safely.
And even though there have not been any soldiers in my family since the early 1900's, there are numerous people I know and love who are currently active members of the Defence Force. A few gleeful friendships during school and university days developed into long-term relationships for some of my closest girlfriends. Two women I love dearly have husbands in the Air Force. Several of my male friends are actively serving in the Army and the Navy. All of them have signed up for a life of protecting this country should it be necessary. I cross my fingers often and pray for a boring office job for the lot of them.
On this Anzac Day, as usual I got a bit emotional. Not maudlin - just introspective. A bit quiet. Which, I'm sure you've gathered a while ago, is fairly unusual for this little black duck. So, to show my gratitude to our servicemen and women who laid down their lives for us, so that we might live in a safe, peaceful country, I decided to take stock of the things that made me smile today. The things that put the shine on my life...you could say the icing sugar on my brownies, or the bubbles in my champers.
*Jack returned home from an exhilarating overnight visit to Narnie and Pa's house, full of stories and absolutely exhausted. He spent the afternoon playing beautifully with both of his sisters. One might suspect he actually missed them!
*Christian and I took Phoebe out for brunch this morning, as a special treat. After devouring a chocolate muffin as big as her head, she sneezed so violently that two streams of snot shot out of her nose and down to her chin....needless to say we were laughing so hard it took a while to find sufficient tissues to mop her up. Meanwhile, she just sat there, trying not inhale or laugh. Disgusting, and truly hilarious.
*Maisie got her overalls stuck on the baby fence we have in our loungeroom (Need I remind you? Three kids plus one ten week old border collie pup?? Wouldn't you have a fence?). She screamed and whinged and pulled and yelled, and when she popped free, muttered "Ta tum" (her word for thank you) over her shoulder, and carried on. Priceless!!
Small things, for which I am eternally grateful. Because of our soldiers, pilots and sailors, we live in a free country, with good education, health care, safe streets (relatively speaking!), and equal rights for men and women. It is because of them, that I don't have to worry about anything but counting my blessings. There is so much to be thankful for. Lest We Forget.
2 comments:
Oh, I know what you mean about clutching your son tight during the Last Post. I couldn't bear the thought of sending them off to war.
What a touching post, I to always get a bit teary during the last post, but I have never known why. But this year as I listened, I thought about my boyfriend being sent off to war, and my friend's own partners and sons. Then I knew, how hard it must have been for all those women and fathers to let their children go. It is something I hope I will never have to do.
But it's so great that you had such a good weekend! Jack actually missing his sisters? Oh my!
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