In Flander's Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.

Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John McCrae

Lest we forget.

My Grandfather will never forget, and neither will anyone in our family forget the sacrifices made by men and women such as my grandfather. We are truly blessed that he was able to return home when so many did not. As a mother, my heart goes out to the women at that time who were left behind waiting for news of loved ones; fathers, brothers, husbands and sons - and for those mothers who with pride and heavy hearts stand at the cenitaphs in the hope that their loved ones did not die in vain.