Remembering

During my primary school years, I was set a project to write a biography of someone I knew.  I chose my grandfather and during one of our conversations he presented me with the hip flask that he believed had helped to save his life when he was hit in a shell attack during WW2.  This was to become a treasured object of mine; a touchstone that linked the experiences that he spoke of, to a day and time in history, and that provided me with an opportunity to question and imagine.

Years later, whilst piecing together his and my grandmother’s story for Dear Mr Snippet my understanding of his experiences grew.  I began to recognise the importance of recording and sharing these stories, the different snapshots and snippets of their daily lives revealing some of what it was like to live through WW2.  As time moves on, I believe it is important that these stories are not forgotten and do not fade, so that when we no longer have those who can talk about it firsthand, future generations still have opportunity to create their own understandings.  

Since writing Dear Mr Snippet my perceptions and feelings around Remembrance Day have deepened and intensified, and this year I will march with young cadets to my town’s war memorial and stand by their side to honour those that have played their part.  I will give thanks that my grandfather was able to return and that I had the opportunity to know him.  I will think of the snippets of stories he recorded in his letters and diaries, his troop and comrades, and for all those, who through actions both big and small enabled our freedom.  They were the miracle, and it will be for them that I wear my poppy.