ANZAC Day.

*Lest We Forget*

Coming from a family with a significant number of past and present servicemen and women, I’ve always had a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for those who take on this role for our country.

I’ve grown up hearing their stories, admiring their uniforms and their medals, and understanding intrinsically, that I’d probably never truly grasp what it all truly meant to them. For, these were their stories, and their memories, and as civilians, I know we only see but the very tip of the iceberg of what it means to live a military life.

Some of my cousins, who I have watched grow from tiny babies, now stand in uniform, just as generations before them have done, prepared to answer the call, and do what they need to do – for us.

I’m so proud of them all.

Standing in the dim first light of day this morning, listening to the haunting call of the Last Post echoing through a silent crowd, I felt surrounded by an almost tangible poignancy as I reflected on the sacrifices made by those men and women who came before us on the Gallipoli beaches, in the battles and wars that followed, and from those who continue to serve today.

They’ve bled for us in battle, been spat on and disrespected upon their return, with far too many let down by the Governments they represented. They’ve sacrificed their bodies, their minds, and their wellbeing for something they deemed to be of greater importance – our country. And for many of those who have returned to us, their battles continue – only now, they’re on the inside, and not in a warzone.

They’ve died, so that we could live.

They’ve served, so that we could have the freedoms we take for granted.

They’ve loved us so fiercely, they’ve given everything for us.

May we never, ever take this bravery for granted.

THANK YOU.

*Lest We Forget*

Image by @kellythompsoncreative

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