My granddad went to war.
As a child I would sit, his collection of service medals in hand, the small box of souvenirs, trinkets, and faded photos at my side, and I would smile.
I would smile imagining my granddad as a young man, a driver I was told, behind the wheel of what I pictured to be a truck somewhat like the one in the set of plastic army men, setting off on some grand adventure.
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Singing jovial songs, and preparing for the task at hand. The great pyramids of Egypt potentially a destination, some time in Italy a certainty. What spectacular sights he must have seen. What friends he must have made.
I would smile with the positivity of youth at my disposal, my connection to the real events of war that unfolded tempered, by the passing of time, and the imagination of a young child not yet fully aware of the extent of the losses endured.
I would watch as my granddad stood proudly at a dawn service, rubbing my eyes, still half asleep in the early morning chill. Excited to be a part of what seemed like a very special day.
I smiled as I watched the adults around me greet each other, a firm handshake, a pat on the back, a cup of hot coffee with "just a touch of rum" my granddad would laugh.
I smiled at the other children as they too stood next to parents, grandparents, mothers, and fathers, some in glorious uniform.
How proud they must be, I thought, admiring the numerous shiny pieces of coloured metal hanging from their chest.
And now I am grown I watch my children learn, a picture drawn in school of Anzac soldiers. They too, smile from ear to ear, the lines of crayon across their faces showing the disposition of children growing up in a country where we are free. Free to love, laugh, and free to smile.
I extend my arms, the same way I have done 1000 times before, the little feet running towards me ready to jump into my arms again, but on this day I smile because my granddad came home. He had a family. A chance to love, laugh and smile.
I'm here because he came home, and that has been denied to so many. That is why . . .
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them.
• Don't miss Adam Green and Sarah van der Kley on The Hits Hawke's Bay from 6am to 9am, Monday to Friday.