Saturday was ANZAC day here in Australia — a day that is set aside for us to show our appreciation for those who have fought in wars to save our country or to support our allies. We remember them with ceremonies, street parades and poppies. But this year was very different because of the corona virus. Public gatherings are banned with no more than two people able to get together — which kind of makes it difficult to have a street parade or a ceremony.
Usually Ross and I attend the local Cenotaph for the dawn service. Not happening this time so it was suggested that we all come out to our driveways with a lighted candle to mark the occasion. The radio station would broadcast the ceremony and the poignant Last Post. Ross decided he would bring the fire barrel to the end of the drive and have a fire rather than a candle. He hung his fathers’ Australian flag on the house-front and I crocheted some red and black poppies to put on the gatepost.
Ross’s grandfather was an original ANZAC who fought in the first world war along with his five other brothers which is why we do the dawn service rather than the later ones. We got up at the usual time because the Anzac’s landed on the beach in Gallipoli at a quarter past four in the morning. A neighbour from across the road joined us — he stood on the footpath whilst we were in the drive — maintaining the proper social distancing as we stood around the fire. There were a few other candles in driveways around us in readiness for the ceremony at one minute to six. A neighbour from a few doors up came down to let us know that her son would be (attempting) to play the Last Post on his trumpet and hoped that it wouldn’t be too bad.
At the designated time the last post was played — the boy did an admirable job and it was quite moving. Someone a block away had the recorded version playing — which was vastly different — but I appreciated the effort of the novice. It was quite poignant and brought a tear to my eye.
Anzac day also allows me to remember other loved ones who have left us and I can’t help but think of them too when I stop to mark my respect for those who fought for our country. I feel that it allows us to grieve a little for those we personally have lost along with those who died for our country. Perhaps it is because I’m in a mood to reflect on the past — as are those around me. So I allow myself to grieve for others who have left us — like our Kelly. It’s a somber sort of day and introspection is allowed — even encouraged and nobody really notices if you shed a tear or two.