Remembering on the 11th. Remembrance Day.

 This morning, I paused to reflect. Now, as evening settles, I find myself still pondering what this image—and countless others like it—truly represent.

For those who’ve never experienced or been touched by the realities of war, for the blissfully unaware, this might not seem deeply significant. But I feel compelled to offer some perspective—at least, I’ll try.

I was born in 1970, firmly Gen X. World War II ended in 1945, the Korean War in 1953, and the Vietnam War lingered on until 1975—the year I started school in Auckland, New Zealand.

The veterans of the two world wars were, typically, my grandparents’ age or older. Their children—my parents, my uncles—a generation shaped by their proximity to war. Boomers.

Back then, war-damaged veterans were a familiar part of life. They weren’t just stories or statistics; they were real, present, part of our everyday world. We honoured them, as we should.

We tended their graves. I still remember the exact spots, etched into my memory from those hours spent there with my Nana. She was sad—so deeply sad—and at five years old, I didn’t know how to take her sadness away. But I stood there, absorbing what little I could understand.

We helped those men cross streets when they couldn’t do it on their own, when even something as simple as facing a road was too much. We helped their widows. Even as a child, I could see how much had been asked of them, even if I couldn’t fully grasp the enormity of it.

Now, I do understand. I understand what they endured, what they sacrificed, and how war breaks people in ways that never heal.

Today, my respect for all veterans remains as steadfast as ever. So too does my compassion for all victims of war, especially the innocents caught in its ruthless grip. They are the collateral damage of bad leaders, driven by grand ambitions that are paid for in the currency of ruined lives.

We will remember them. We must remember them.

And we must never stop striving to ensure that this madness never consumes our world again.

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