I hate Remembrance Day

It’s been five years now since I first started hating Remembrance Day. Before, it was a time for quiet reflection. A time to be grateful for the sacrifice given by the brave men and women of our country. While Taps played I would send thanks for their sacrifice.

Now on Remembrance Day, I stand, filled with pain, at the cenotaph as the ceremonies unfold. I watch as veterans lay their wreaths. I look at the school children who have walked down to show their respect for those lost from our community.

Then I look around the crowd – at the faces. I see them differently now. I see those faces who are there and haven’t learned to hate Remembrance Day, and the ones who have. The ones who know the senseless loss of life. The ones who understand the cost of those who volunteered their lives, and of those who didn’t but were lost anyways. It’s been five years since I turned into one of those people.

Its been five years since I started hating Remembrance Day. Five years of constant reminding that you’re no longer here.

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