Every year we mark occasions such as VE Day, VJ Day, Armed Forces Day, Armistice Day and Remembrance Sunday. For many people they have become familiar dates in the calendar, marked by parades, church services, wreath laying ceremonies and the Two Minute Silence.
Yet I sometimes wonder whether we pause long enough to think about why these days continue to matter.
As a minister and celebrant, I have the privilege of leading services throughout the year where people come together to remember those who have served our country. I also spend time with veterans and their families whilst arranging funerals, and one thing has become very clear to me. Behind every medal, every name on a memorial and every military photograph is a person with a family, a story and a life that deserves to be remembered.
One of the greatest privileges of my role is listening to those stories. Sometimes they come from the veteran themselves, although many were incredibly modest about what they had done. More often they come from husbands, wives, sons, daughters and grandchildren who tell me about the person behind the uniform. They talk about someone who rarely spoke about their service, someone who quietly got on with life after leaving the Armed Forces or someone whose military experiences helped shape the person they became.
Those conversations remind me that remembrance is never really about history. It is about people.
It is easy to think of conflicts such as the First and Second World Wars as events that belong to another generation. As the years pass, those who lived through them become fewer, and the stories that were once shared around family dinner tables risk disappearing altogether. Even more recent conflicts, including Korea, the Falklands, Iraq and Afghanistan, are gradually becoming history rather than living memory.
That is exactly why remembrance matters so much.
When we pause to remember, we aren't celebrating war. We are acknowledging the human cost of conflict and recognising the courage, sacrifice and commitment of those who were prepared to serve their country, often at enormous personal cost. We remember not because we wish to dwell on the past, but because we understand that the freedoms we enjoy today were secured by ordinary men and women who did extraordinary things.
Each of our national days of remembrance tells a different part of that story.
Every year on May 8th, we commemorate VE Day, marking the end of the Second World War in Europe. It's easy to picture the celebrations, the street parties and the relief that swept across the country after years of uncertainty. Yet behind every photograph of smiling crowds were families whose celebrations were mixed with sadness because someone they loved never came home. For me, VE Day is as much about remembering those families as it is about remembering victory itself.
A few months later, on August 15th, we mark VJ Day, bringing to a close the fighting in the Far East and signalling the true end of the Second World War. It is a date that sometimes receives less attention, yet it reminds us of the immense hardships endured by those who fought across Asia and the Pacific, including the many prisoners of war who suffered unimaginable conditions. Their courage deserves to be remembered just as much today as it did more than eighty years ago.
Towards the end of June we celebrate Armed Forces Day, and I think this day has a slightly different feel. Rather than looking only to the past, it encourages us to recognise those who continue to serve today. Our Armed Forces are involved in far more than conflict. They support humanitarian missions, disaster relief, peacekeeping operations and countless other roles around the world. Armed Forces Day reminds us that service continues every single day, often away from the public eye, and it gives us the opportunity to say a simple but heartfelt thank you.
For many people, however, Remembrance Sunday remains the most significant event in the calendar. There is something incredibly moving about standing alongside veterans, families and members of the community as the Last Post sounds and the nation falls silent. For two minutes, differences disappear. Young and old stand together, medals catch the light and wreaths are laid in memory of those who gave so much. It is one of the few occasions each year when entire communities stop together to reflect, and I never fail to be moved by its quiet dignity.
Just a few days earlier, on November 11th, we observe Armistice Day, marking the moment the guns fell silent at the end of the First World War. Although more than a century has passed since that moment, the Two Minute Silence remains one of the most powerful acts of remembrance I have ever witnessed. In a world that rarely stops moving, those brief moments of silence speak more powerfully than any speech ever could.
Although these dates are important, I don't believe remembrance should be confined to a handful of days each year.
Remembrance happens every time a grandparent tells a grandchild about their military service. It happens when a family carefully preserves a box of medals or an old photograph. It happens when someone pauses to read the names engraved on a village war memorial or attends a local remembrance service for the first time.
Perhaps, for me, remembrance happens most often during a funeral.
When I stand beside the coffin of a veteran and listen to their family speak about the person they loved, I am reminded that military service is only one chapter of a much bigger story. Yes, they may have served their country with courage and commitment, but they were also husbands, wives, parents, grandparents, neighbours and friends. The uniform tells part of their story. The people left behind tell the rest.
That is why remembrance continues to matter.
It reminds us that freedom has never been free. It reminds us that every name carved into stone once belonged to someone whose absence was felt by a family. It reminds us that behind every act of service was an individual who hoped to leave the world a little safer for those who followed.
If we continue to tell their stories, if we continue to teach younger generations why these occasions matter and if we continue to pause, even for just a few moments each year, then their sacrifice will never be forgotten.
For me, that is what remembrance has always been about.
Not looking backwards.
But carrying their memory forwards.
If you would like to learn more about me, my background, and the services I offer, please visit my About Jon Matson-Higgins page or my Funeral Celebrantpage.
I have created some basic information to help guide what to do after someone passes away, and some resources to support bereavement. I understand that planning a ceremony can sometimes feel overwhelming, so if you have any questions or would simply like an informal chat, please feel free to contact me through my contact page.
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Written by Jon Matson-Higgins, Minister & Celebrant based in Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire, Norfolk, Suffolk, Rutland and Northamptonshire