The two minutes silence begins. Some of the people in the room stand, but I sit, head bowed, in a pose of solemn remembrance.
But all I can think of is the moment I crushed your little paper poppy when we hugged, and the feeling you are somehow as lost to me as the fallen were to them is bouncing around my brain and tugging at my heartstrings. Thatâ€™s me all over though; even in the blog; I am so absorbed in the personal the bigger picture often eludes me.
I try to force my thoughts back to those who have given their lives for what they believe to be freedom. The three ancient soldiers at the cenotaph in Whitehall today; the 2,700 who needlessly died on 11th November eighty years ago as, knowing the armistice was coming, the gun crews pumped out ammunition they didnâ€™t want to carry home. The needless slaughter in all corners of the world that continues today.
Instead my screensaver pops into my mind. You love it; you comment on it every time you see it; I would send you the picture, if only I could. It is a field of poppies.
â€œDonâ€™t disappear on me.â€ Itâ€™s where we started, an endless, aching, six months ago. You never promised me that you wouldnâ€™t and now I believe that you have.