I can hardly believe it's almost a year since my husband came home. The time's gone so fast - a hell of a lot faster than the year he was away…funny enough.
The 18th November: that was the day. Especially significant somehow, being so close to Remembrance Day.
The countdown seemed to go on and on and ON, and then, there he was, standing outside the door, as if it was the most normal thing ever. Exhausted; thin; with a few more grey hairs. Such an unforgettable moment.
Such a wave of joy and relief.
The countdown seemed to go on and on and ON, and then, there he was, standing outside the door, as if it was the most normal thing ever. Exhausted; thin; with a few more grey hairs. Such an unforgettable moment.
Such a wave of joy and relief.
I've been looking back over a few of the posts I wrote during his Afghan tour. Some still choke me up; not because of the words, but because I remember how I felt at that time. Emotional. Tired. Holding on.
This poem is from roughly a third of the way through the year. I'd seen a notice in a local shop window about plans to hold a 2 minute silence for 6 young soldiers killed in Afghanistan. The meeting place was by a bus stop in the middle of the village, so I took the kids along.
Apologies if you've read it before, but with Remembrance Day coming up, thought it was worth revisiting.
Lest We Forget.
Apologies if you've read it before, but with Remembrance Day coming up, thought it was worth revisiting.
Lest We Forget.
Day 115 - Two Minute Silence
We join a line at a bus stop
No ordinary queue.
A small gathering of strangers,
all here for the same reason;
to remember six young men
none of us knew,
killed in a place we can't imagine.
Their pictures pinned to the shelter wall;
smiling, confident, brave.
A quick snapshot
that every soldier knows
might be his last.
The one we see when they are gone.
Two minutes of silence,
Two minutes for them.
I steal a glance at my eldest,
head bowed, just nine;
Half the life
of the youngest soldier.
I think of the family's grief and pain,
the sadness that must weigh them down
and engulf everything.
I think of the impossible road ahead;
the gaps that will never close.
And I pray in these darkest hours
there's some comfort in knowing
they died with friends,
doing a job they loved.
However hard to understand.
The church bell breaks the silence;
time moves on again.
The kids walk slowly to the car,
my thoughts caught in a distant place
my thoughts caught in a distant place
as they count the days till daddy's home.
