Remembrance Sunday touches me every year, I'm not sure what one thing it is, it's like it is significant every year of my life for different reasons. The year one of my best buddies was serving in Afghanistan, the year my Grandfather died on Remembrance Sunday or the year I carried the colour of my detatchment as a young army cadet and the pride I felt. This year I took my two daughters out to watch the service at the Cenotaph in Chester and the march past that followed, earlier in the week the Mercian Regiment had held a homecoming parade combined with their act of remembrance on 11/11. The 2 minute silence was tangible as they remembered those who had died in service in a foreign land, 12 candles were lit inside the Cathedral to represent those who had not returned with their regiment, many tears fell.
It's hard to separate the politics sometimes and we all have our own opinions on recent world conflicts but these people do a job, a very difficult job which without being there ourselves we cannot possibly hope to understand. They are following orders at the end of the day and some sadly pay the ultimate price. The dignity of a soldier newly returned from Afghanistan and an old veteran in a wheelchair is the same, they are united for that one moment in their understanding of conflict, of sacrifice and of service. It is only building on that understanding of the cost of war from those who have paid the price that we can move towards peace, peace for all people and a peace that lasts.
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