Tomorrow is one of my most favourite days of the year.
It will be ANZAC Day and because according to my stats thingy someone from Panama once read this blog I will just expand on the fact that tomorrow is the day we remember the sacrifice of the Australian and New Zealand soldiers across all wars.
It is one of my favourite days because of its traditions. Although they too are starting to change.
Tomorrow is about my Mum and I. It is a day when I remember how alike we are.
We used to go and watch my Mum’s Dad march every year. We would stand in the same place on St Kilda Road outside the Arts Centre.
We would wait for Grandpa and his unit to come. We would wait for the banner with the lightening strike on it and say “I think that’s it”.
He would be leading his unit. He would not smile and wave at us like some of the other Diggers would.
He was marching when the others were walking and talking. He would look straight ahead because he had a job to do.
Then he would pass us and we would walk to queue up for the football.
And as we were walking through the gardens I would hear a school band playing “It’s a long way to Tipperary” or “We’ll meet again” and I would sob. So would mum. We would walk along together with tears running down our faces because of these 2 songs.
But about 5 years ago Grandpa got too old to march.
His Alzheimer’s was too bad.
He stayed at the nursing home and Mum and I went to the march and cried because he was not there.
Where he belonged.
When he passed away 2 years ago we played those songs at his funeral and there was a sepia photo of him in his Army uniform as a handsome young soldier with his life ahead of him.
Staring straight ahead without smiling.
He was an exceptional man. Someone who let me know that he loved me very much. Someone who I miss.
Someone that I remember fondly and often but especially tomorrow.