November the Month to Remember

A Time to Remember

November has always been a month I find difficult. Across the world, it is a time for reflection — a time to remember the hundreds of thousands of soldiers who gave their lives fighting for their countries. For as long as I can remember, the sacrifices those men and women made for our future have filled me with awe, respect, and deep emotion. Even now, it moves me to think of children, some as young as twelve, who lied about their age so that they could join the forces and go to war — to fight, to protect, and, for so many, to never return. And then there were the countless adults who chose to step forward, ready to sacrifice everything so that we could live in freedom.

Of course, November is not the only time we remember — remembrance happens throughout the year. But November brings it to the forefront. It is their month. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month marks the moment the guns fell silent in 1918, signalling the end of the First World War. That moment became a day of Remembrance — a day to pause, to reflect, and to honour those who never made it home.

When I was younger, I would attend remembrance parades and watch the sailors, soldiers, and airmen marching proudly in their uniforms. I can still picture their faces — the quiet pride, the sense of duty, the weight of remembrance they carried. Watching them, I knew I wanted to be part of that legacy.

In time, I joined the British Army. Taking to the streets to sell poppies remains one of my proudest memories. It was my small way of giving thanks — of acknowledging all those who gave their everything. Taking part in remembrance parades always gave me goosebumps. And when the clock struck eleven, as silence fell and memories filled the air, I would always find myself wiping away tears.

I have been fortunate enough to visit battlefields from both World Wars across Europe, standing in silent awe at the enormity of what those soldiers faced. The beaches of Normandy, where wave after wave of young men ran straight into enemy fire, brought tears to my eyes. I cannot begin to imagine what went through their minds — the courage it must have taken to step off those landing craft, believing wholeheartedly that they were doing what was necessary to save the world. They were willing to give everything — for King, for country, for God, and for generations yet to come.

In the Troodos Mountains, there is a small Commonwealth War Graves cemetery. It sits quietly among the hills, overlooking the valleys below. Each grave tells a story. Cyprus itself played an important, though often overlooked, role in the wars. It was a key strategic base for the Allies, and more than 30,000 Cypriots volunteered to fight alongside British soldiers in North Africa, the Middle East, and Europe.

For me, November and Remembrance Day are not about remembering just one person — though, of course, certain faces and memories do come to mind. It is about remembering all of them. It is a time to reflect on what might have been, had they not given the ultimate sacrifice. It is also a gentle reminder to live life fully and with gratitude — because the freedoms and opportunities I have today exist only because so many gave theirs away.

This Sunday, I will go to church. I will take part in the service of remembrance, I will cry, I will hold those closest to me, and I will say — quietly but with all my heart — thank you.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. 🌺