I’m really debating whether I should post this at all. After all, “better late than never” is not always the case, sometimes it’s just insulting.
My Grandfather, still living, fought in WWII. And although this may be the last year he walks on his own in the parade, he did so, at 95 years old. (My Aunt speculates that next year he should sit in a wheelchair and be pushed.) That’s commitment. Remembrance Day is important to him, to my whole family. (That’s him with the cane, third in line.)
I used to think it was important to me, but my remembrance and proper observance of the day has really waned since adulthood. Yesterday I didn’t dig my poppy out of my jewelry box, I was in such a hurry to dress for work, and I didn’t even take the time to talk to Little Red about the day.
At least last year I did something. This year I made a lame blog post a day late to quell my shame. I’m sorry.