Remembrance Day always makes me a little sad. My Dad, whom I loved very much, was in the Second World War. What he went through after his plane was shot down was nothing short of miraculous.  He spent 4 years in the hospital in East Grinstead, England. Just stop and think about it for a second: 4 years. If we are in a hospital for 4 days it’s quite inconvenient, 4 weeks would really be a serious situation, 4 months would be bordering on impossible.  Now wrap your head around 4 years trying to fix and repair a very badly burnt body.  Just writing about it puts a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye.  After 4 years in hospital overseas my Dad was in Sunnybrook Hospital in Toronto for one more year.  After 5 years in hospitals he had to start his life over again.

So yes, Remembrance Day means a lot to me.  It brings back emotions and great memories of a Dad who I truly miss. I am happy to say my Dad had a full life, a wonderful life and lived until the age 82 thanks to some great pioneering doctors many years ago.

 

I am very proud of my Dad and his sacrifices. I am proud to wear my Poppy.