Representing Military Widows
Laying a wreath at the Royal British Legion centenary event
Saturday 15 May 2021
A selfie as I walking across Westminster Bridge in the rain!
It was so peaceful to soak up some peace and quiet and collect my thoughts as the train flew towards London on Friday afternoon. The week had been the usual busy solo-parenting chaos, into which life had mixed the excitement of launching my own website and an interview that morning with BBC Radio Somerset for the end of Dying Matters Week. Despite the warm, moist air between my flowery mask and my face, it was almost pleasant to be sat on the train watching the English countryside fly past.
Before I got on the train, I had left my van in an almost empty car park and I had walked along a little country footpath to collect my tickets at the station. I noticed as I did how lucky I am to live in the countryside, where I can enjoy the birds singing whilst the sunshine warms my skin. Picking up my tickets, I had been anxious about the news of high-speed rail services being cancelled because of cracks in the trains that had been discovered. It seems strange that I was preoccupied by the trains, but it was easier than worrying about the immense honour of the role I was about to play in London.
Putting all concerns to one side and surrendering to the pandemic-style train journey, I started to gather my thoughts about why I was heading to the Big Smoke. The Royal British Legion had asked me to represent military widows and to lay a wreath at the Cenotaph to echo the moment 100 years before when their organisation was founded. On 15 May 1921 at 9am six individuals laid wreaths to represent the Royal British Legion, the Army, the Navy, the RAF, the Merchant Navy and the War Widows.
Sky News! Trying not to cry I answered their questions as best I could.
The train pulled up at Paddington Station and I headed into the depths of the underground with my bags and my long black coat. It was a joy to acknowledge that I had a spring in my step as I walked out of Waterloo Underground Station past the London Eye to my hotel. I marvelled at how many reminders of the World Wars can be found by looking at our surroundings. I noted sadly the memorial plaques on the wall at the exit of the station, poppies hanging from a street seller’s stall, dents in buildings from shrapnel. All signs of the ultimate sacrifice that has been made and continues to be made by those in service so we can have our freedom.
With so many thoughts whirling round my mind, I had a fitful night’s sleep and I woke naturally at 5.30am. Knowing I prefer to enjoy getting ready for a big event, I got up and laid out my outfit on the huge white hotel bed, the special keepsake necklaces and Simon’s medals shining brightly against the black clothes. I stepped out of the hotel, spot on time, at 6.50am to walk over Westminster Bridge, grateful to have borrowed a big umbrella from the hotel. As the grey drops fell into the murky brown Thames, Big Ben stood proud but enveloped in scaffolding next to the Houses of Parliament and Portcullis House. An eerie silence was punctured by the sound of the wheels of the occasional cars or taxis driving through the standing water on the road. I felt a sense that the world was crying for all the lost souls who have died and left grieving loved ones behind, echoing my heavy heart.
The famous Cenotaph, the United Kingdom’s famous Portland Stone war memorial, designed by Edwin Lutyens, is an empty monument honouring the fallen.
Meeting up with the Royal British Legion, my first role was to be interviewed by Sky News, something I knew was a possibility but I had not anticipated that it would be done ‘down the line’. I had an ear piece fitted into my ear, around my black hat, down to the little microphone attached to my coat and into my pocket where the battery was placed with an old hidden tissue. As more people arrived, they smiled encouragingly at me but they had no idea that my head was in a very different place. My thoughts had been taken by the voice in my ear to the most recent horrific news from the Middle East. The newsreader spoke about the fighting and air strikes in Gaza and the fear in the community of living in a war zone. It was a reminder for me of the horrific toll that war has on a country and its people.
The news reader switched abruptly to me and suddenly I was live. I had been briefed on so many possible questions, but I never thought they would ask about my own brief involvement in the Territorial Army so many years ago or about my thoughts of having lost my husband. Trying not to cry I answered their questions as best I could, feeling a bit shocked and as though I was not getting the messages across as I had hoped. Having waited around for ages for my slot, suddenly it was over. It was a relief to chat to someone who had worked closely with Simon and who has true empathy for how I was feeling.
Representatives from the Royal Navy, the Army, the RAF, the Merchant Navy and Military Widows.
The police stopped the traffic, whilst we got briefed and then did a rehearsal in front of the National and Union Standards displayed at the base of the famous Cenotaph. The United Kingdom’s famous Portland Stone war memorial designed by Edwin Lutyens is an empty monument honouring the fallen and it stood proud against the grey sky. Time suddenly went into fast forward as we got briefed on our movements and I remembered the endless drill sessions, stamping of feet and saluting from my days in the OTC and TA. Suddenly, the National President gave us the ‘Up’ instruction to move and we were off, marching to our positions in front of the huge stone structure of the Cenotaph.
Needing somewhere to look, my eyes focused high up on the memorial and fixed on the words that are now forever imprinted on my mind: ‘The Glorious Dead’. Time suddenly stood still as we waited for that National President to say the exhortation:
‘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.’
The most extraordinary moment was, of course, the silence. Although Armistice Day has been observed every year since the end of World War One in 1919, having a two-minute silence that did not fall at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month felt phenomenally special. As the bugler from Welsh Guards played the Last Post to mark the beginning of the two-minute silence, an other-worldly stillness descended on the closed road in the centre of London.
Laying the wreath.
In that moment, I lowered my eyes to the ground and thought of all those who have lost a loved one. I was officially there representing war widows past, present and future. Although I am a military widow with my own grief, my mind settled on no one specific man or woman, no one representative of any particular unit or battalion and I had no orientation to any one faith, religion or belief. Instead, my heart bled for all those, whoever they are, who have lost loved ones. There is no hierarchy in death, every death is unique. Silent tears fell down my face as I felt sadness for those who have died too young and as I thought about the empathy I have for the vast labyrinth of feelings that can descend on bereaved individuals after the death of a loved one.
My husband did not die in battle, and I do not know what that must feel like, but I have so much empathy for those who have lost husbands, wives, partners, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, friends and other relatives from conflict around the world over the last 100 years and sadly in the years to come. I know what it feels like to never again see the face of a loved one. I live with the reality that all I have is the pictures and memories that my late husband left behind. I have felt those heart-breaking feelings that bubble up when you look at their belongings, forlornly left knowing that you will never see the spark in the eyes of their fun and the inspirational owner.
My special keepsake necklaces and Simon’s medals shine brightly against the black clothes.
To me it’s not about the battles and wars that we read about in the history books, it’s about the courage and strength of both those who risked their lives for our freedom and those who are left behind to live a life without their loved one. It’s not just about those who have died and been injured in the past, it is about all those who still serve in the military, who are prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice to preserve our way of life. My world seems so insignificant in comparison to this, I have so much respect and thanks to those brave souls and their families. To me the significance of this important event is to honour all service personnel, their families, the emergency services and the innocent civilians who get caught up in conflict and acts of terrorism. We will remember them.
The Reveille call was a true wake up call, bringing me back from the depths of my thoughts and ending the two-minute silence. We then all laid our wreaths in turn:
• The National President, Lt Gen (Retd) James Bashall CB CBE
• Royal Navy submariner, Lt James Thompson
• Army nurse and welfare officer, Sgt Ben Poku
• RAF nurse, Sgt Natasha Weatherstone
• Merchant Navy RBL member, Martyn Coombs and
• Me, the military widow to Lt Col Simon Gray RM, on behalf of all bereaved individuals.
Remembrance is deeply personal and unique to us all and as we marched away from the Cenotaph the tears fell again silently down my face, this time more selfishly: for our family who lost an inspirational man, a devoted father, a soulmate and a much-loved son and brother. With the act of Remembrance over, I was pleased not to be a part of any more centenary celebrations and be able to focus on heading home to our girls, in the hope of fun and giggles to bring me back into the present and remind me of the importance of looking forwards to the future.
From learning about silk poppies to reading personal testimonies of support, you can explore more about the Royal British Legion and the great work they do on their website: www.britishlegion.org.uk. As well as being pivotal to Remembrance Day, they unite across faiths, cultures and backgrounds to provide financial, social and emotional support to members and veterans of the British Armed Forces, their families and dependants.
Are you dealing with grief, loneliness, despair, or feelings of constant confusion have a look at my one-on-one support to find some inner peace via the link below