ANZAC

This is my dad holding my grandpa's Pacific Star medal for service in the Pacific during WWII. I asked Dad to dig it out today because today made me think of my grandparents.

I never think much about ANZAC Day because no one in our family has ever really commemorated it. I've never made the connection that because both of my dad's parents served in WWII, and his grandfather served in WWI, ANZAC Day is for them. They, along with thousands of men and women from Australia and New Zealand, are who we as a nation remember today. My grandparents both served in the RAAF, Grandpa in a plane over the Pacific and Grandma as a radio operator. When I was little I had this romantic idea that they would send messages across the radio waves while war waged around them, but in actuality they didn't meet until it was all over.

My great-grandfather was awarded the highest medal a private soldier could get, and still I never think that ANZAC Day is for my family. It's for the vets you see each year in wheelchairs, covered in medals, or the men and women who are in Iraq or Afghanistan and send messages home to their loved ones. This is the first time I've realised that my grandparents were war vets, and although I realised too late to make it to a dawn service this morning, I'm thinking I might try next year.

I spent most of today regretting my hangover and not doing very much at all. (Except, clearly, a lot of thinking about ANZAC Day.)

I like that you can see Dad in the background here, and that he's holding his dad's medal. There was something quite special about laying out the medal alongside Grandpa's wings, his RAAF badge, his RSL badge, his cap badge and other bits and bobs from all those years ago while Dad explained what it all meant.