We are a military family. My husband, his brothers, my brother, my sister-in-law, my grandparents, and many friends have all served. We have tried to teach our kids the importance of what Daddy does. What our family and friends do. What the thousands of other families out there experience.
Anzac Day always makes me cry. I’m a total sook anyway, but on this day, when that last post is played, the tears run down my cheeks. I think of how proud I am of all of the people I know and what they have done. Of all of those who never returned home. Of those who came home but were never quite the same again. Whether it was 100 years ago, 70 years ago, or only more recently – thank you.
The news programs show footage of military personnel currently serving, saying hi and sending messages of love to their families back home. Missing birthdays, anniversaries, school events. I remember seeing my husband on the news one evening, sending me one of those messages of love from far away, while I was heavily pregnant with our first baby. It is hard.
I am frustrated that those who have served are not shown the respect they deserve. They are heroes. Instead, people choose to show more respect to sports stars. Those that earn a squillion dollars to run fast or catch a ball. Good on you for being able to do that, but you’re not a hero to me.
One Anzac Day, we took our then four year old to see the parade and to pay our respects. He saw the men and women marching with their medals. He got it. What he did made me so proud, and tear up all at the same time. He saluted those marching and turned to us and said, “they are all heroes”.
So on a day like today, please take a moment to say thanks to those who are the true heroes, those that gave up everything for us. For those who are no longer with this. For those who laid it all on the line. For those who did come home, but were scarred deeper than we can see.
All I can say is thank you, and hope you know just how thankful I am. Lest we forget.