It Isn't Just One Day

Today the townspeople of Otley remembered the fallen in conflicts since the First World War.

We veterans marched through our town to the Catholic church where we said our prayers for the souls of those from Otley who went to war and did not return. We then marched to the War Memorial Gardens and laid wreathes in their memory. And we remembered individually those we knew personally who had died on active service. Tears were shed.

But did we remember everyone who was affected by war? Did we remember the survivors, the unscathed, the crippled, the mentally scarred? Did we remember the families of the dead on all sides? Did we sympathise with those left behind who had to live with the seemeingly unending anxiety of not knowing how their family member was doing, terrified by the sound of the letterbox? And how does one explain to a toddler who is fascinated by medals and insignia and martial music that if they are very lucky they will never have to suffer the experiences we have had to endure?

I have survived. It has not always been easy. Sometimes I have envied the names on this wall.

One day, please God, this will no longer be necessary.