ANZAC day is an emotional day for me.
It is a day I remember what my grandfathers sacrificed.
What their families sacrificed.
All in the name of keeping our world safe.
At my grandfathers funeral some guy from the RSL made a speech and talked about what my grandfather did during the war.
All news to me.
He never spoke of it.
He was a hero. He had medals.
Medals he never collected.
My other grandfather would not allow any talk of the war.
I didn’t even know he served until he died.
The horror that those two wonderful proud men endured defies belief.
My brother is in the Navy and served in the waters around Iraq.
We were told nothing until he returned and to be honest I am pretty damn glad for that.
To me, ANZAC day is not about war.
Or glorifying it.
It is about remembering all the sacrifices made in the name of freedom.
The soldiers
and at home.
The other side.
The horror that is war.
So on ANZAC day I will remember them.
I will hear The Ode of Remembrance and it will make me weep. Every. Fucking. Time.
I will make ANZAC biscuits and be thankful.
That is what ANZAC day means to me.
What does it mean to you?
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{ 29 comments… read them below or add one }
ANZAC day is my birthday, so I always end up caught in this mess of “Oh God, it’s so horrific and I should be thinking about my grandfathers and what they went through” mixed with “Wheee, it’s my birthday so none of the calories count and people have to buy me stuff!!!”. And every year, I think to myself that I should go to the Dawn Service. But then I REALLY don’t want to get up at 4am on my birthday, you know?
I figure that one year, I’ll go to the Dawn Service at Gallipoli to make up for it.
my brother goes to the dawn service, but only cause it is like, HIS JOB.
I have never gone, and probably wont. Just like I don’t go to mass at Christmas, it aint my thing.
I say celebrate your birthday DOUBLE because of awesome people like our grandfathers you HAVE a birthday. TWO CAKES FOR YOU!
Well said, even reading that bought tears to my eyes. Everything about it brings tears to my eyes. Reading of all the soldiers today that are left wounded and expected to ‘get on with it’ makes me cry. The whole bloody thing.
But I am extremely grateful for the men and women who with no idea what they were getting themselves in for thought it was the right thing to do.
We are making ANZAC biscuits tomorrow and we will talk about what it means to be home together on this day. I want to go to a dawn service one year, but I know I’ll just stand there and cry the whole bloody time. Maybe one day.
I guess it is like church, if you feel you need to go as a mark of respect then do.
But don’t feel that you are not honouring all of the sacrifices made during war time by not standing in the freezing cold in front of some stone erected in their honour.
xx
ANZAC day makes me emotional. I’m so thankful for what they did. I’m so thankful it’s still being done. I’m so honored to have been able to do my bit, and I’m so incredibly fucking glad that Mr A and I have made it home reasonably safely every time so far.
This ANZAC day I’ll be thinking about my mates that didn’t come home in the same shape that they left. They were straight of limb, they were true of eyes, and they were steady and aglow. But now so many have lost their glow, and many limbs and eyes are not as useful as they used to be.
I took the kids to the war memorial on Sunday and I fucking cried the whole time.
Glorify war? I don’t think so.
yes. THIS.
Fucking love you.
I love this.
I have paid my respects since I was an early teenager. Yes including the dawn service.
I have a Pop who fought for another country during WWII and so he couldn’t serve for Australia during Vietnam. My other Pop was a boiler maker so “too valuable” to send overseas, but he did work on the ships here.
Even being so far removed I cannot tell you how important this day is. It’s not about the drinking or the 2-up but so much more. I cannot wait until my boys are just a little bit older so I can take them to the AWM and read them every little note with each display and open their eyes up to what a sacrifice was made to give them all they have today.
This was a really beautiful and moving post Kelley.
Just because they didn’t stand on the front line doesn’t mean that ANZAC day can’t be about them too.
x
Im like you, I remember my grandfather and weep (actually I bawl my eyes out) for the last post.
It is so moving isn’t it?
Even if we didn’t know the significance of it, I am sure that we would still weep.
Such a beautiful post, Kelley.
I remember my great-uncle, who died at Passchendaele aged 18. Well, of course, I don’t remember him, but I remember my Gran talking about him, how *her* only memory of him was being carried on his shoulders, her much-older brother. She was the youngest of 10, a toddler when he left for war.
I remember my own grandfathers, who served in very different ways – one at the front, one at home in primary industry, chafing against the restrictions that kept him there.
I think of all those who serve now.
I remember that Australians and NZers are the greatest of friends, despite the stick we give each other all the time.
<3
we will remember them.
x
I’m going to be honest and say the day doesn’t mean all that much to me. I didn’t have uncles or grandfathers fighting for Australia for me. (I was born in Germany and my ancestors fought for that country, but even that doesn’t mean anything to me, because I’ve read of the horrible things Hitler made them do).
I DO appreciate the soldiers who fought to keep this country free, but I don’t go to the Dawn Service, my retired soldier ex-husband does, I don’t march, he does that too.
and that is OK, River.
AOK.
xx
This was absolutely beautiful.
Your post gave me goosebumps. I’ve just returned from a dawn service to watch my grandfather march. I’m ashamed to admit that this is the first time I’ve been to a dawn service and seen him march.
Mine never marched.
I imagine there are a lot of them that didn’t.
I wish I had known about what they had done so I could thank them.
I have no family ties with Anzac day, my family is from Greece and didn’t migrate here until the 50′s BUT that’s beside the point isn’t it? My parents were both little kids during the second World War. My mum would tell me stories of how the Italian soldiers who occupied Greece, even though technically the enemy, were still kind of enough to give her food as she walked to school.
I cannot imagine what that would be like for a 7, 8, 9 year old kid. We are fortunate to be here and now and never having to know that feels like. Or to be parents of such small children during a war. That is what I am thankful for.
I feel for the families in current war-torn countries. My heart aches.
Love & stuff
Mrs M
MPS’s parents escaped Hungary during the war as young teens.
Hearing the stories of what they went through chills me to the bone.
War is horrid.
I think about my Gramps who served in the navy for 52 years, and how at his funeral the chapel was packed and overflowing into the carpark with men with a breast full of medals, and the fact that it must have been a whole seperate existence to his personal life because not a single person came to the wake.
I think about my great uncle who was a pilot, who went missing back in WWII in the jungle in… Malaya?… He was supposed to be the man my grandma married, but when he died she married his older brother.
And I think about my man, now, who was a clearance diver when he was young and stupid, and still has nightmares now, but at least I’m there to comfort him.
Lest we forget.
love to you.
x
My great-grandfather was one of the Lighthorsemen. My grandfather was a WWII fighter pilot. My husband just ended 21yrs service with the RAAF. My pop never discussed the war with any of us, even his own 2 sons, but would sit and talk for hours with my husband, which was really nice to see.
I’m not a fan of the dawn service (too early for me) but my husband goes, he feels it’s more for those who served and the later service better for the families.
I’m always feeling a little on an emotional edge, but the laying of the wreaths and then the bugle section get me crying every time.
Lest we forget.
Me too my love.
It is wonderful that your pop had someone to talk to about it. I can only imagine the stories that he would have had bottled up inside.
Your husband is a good man.
I’m out of words Kel. I just did my own ANZAC post. I’m gonna go have a cigarette and laugh at my kids I can hear being crazy outside.
Love to you and massive hugs too xoxo
xx
Here in the States we have several different days where we remember those who have not come home from War – but none of them seem to mean as much as Anzac Day does to you members of the Commonwealth.
That’s a shame. It seems like we, here in the States, have become blase about War, and its cost. About all the bodies we have left all over the world – all the young men and women who aren’t here to parent, to BE parents, to live, to love, to work, play and eat meals together with those left behind – with those left to live, through their sacrifice.
The biggest of all Man’s follies is War – they are fought by the young, the strong, the virile. Our children. We may as well be primitives who throw their children into the volcano to appease the God – we always manage to think, somehow, that “This War will be the last” – the volcano will go to sleep. But the volcano will always wake – will always demand more sacrifices – and we will throw more children into the fire – because we don’t know any better – we never learn.
Lou, you have such a wonderful way with words.
We also remember on Remembrance Day 11th of the 11th at 11am.
I cry then too.
Crying reading your damn post.
I am crying reading the comments. Fucking awesome heartfelt comments.