There are certain events in the year that unite a nation. As the year draws to a close these events come round more and more regularly with the turning back of the clocks and the darkening of the nights the random explosions begin to ring out across the still night air. Bonfire night and Halloween signal the start of a couple of months of large national days. As the bonfires burn themselves out and the catherine wheels spin their last turn we move steadily towards Remembrance Day and the lonely poppies begin to appear adorning the breasts of the grateful. The old hunched over against the wind as they battle to complete their early Christmas shopping, the young that do not really know why they are wearing one but it’s exciting and the smattering of 20 somethings that have been raised properly to respect and remember.

Each year more names are added to the history books, more lost fathers, brothers, sisters, wives more souls pass on, their visage trapped permanently behind the glass, framed in pictures around the houses they once called home. The individual stories of loss are too many for me to talk about here, too many for me to do justice to and too many to really hit home. One that struck a real note with me while watching the goings on at the Cenotaph yesterday was of a young Welsh guardsman. His mother walked the woods around his child hood home explaining that this was his original battle ground, where he played at war as a child. His widow went onto explain that on the anniversary of his death she climbed the hill that overlooks her home and planted a Welsh flag proud and visible above the village. Every time someone walks up the hill and sits by the flag it brings her some relief, she knows that someone is thinking of her lost love and that brings her some level of relief. It makes it more personal for her, makes it more real.

This is the emotion that should be felt throughout the nation. Yes let’s remember the nations loss but on at 11am on Wednesday just think for a moment of the individual loss. Think of the daughter who has no father to walk her down the aisle, think of the wife whose bed is cold, think of the mother with no son to cook dinner for, think and keep thinking make sure it’s never forgotten.