Amidst the celebrations this weekend we must pause for more than a moment to remember, in the best way we can.
We weren't able to attend our usual service, so we held our own on our doorstep this morning.
I remembered my Mum's father Teddy O'Hare who died in a field in Germany in 1943 just a month after his daughter was born, shot down in a Royal Canadian Air Force Lancaster Bomber he was navigating.
We remembered the sacrifice and the contribution made by my other Grandad, my Dad's dad, Stan Taylor of the Cameron Highlanders and the Royal Commando Regiment in special operations in Malta, Burma, North Africa and Norway. He returned home to his family in North Wales, and led a successful life as a manager at Woolworths stores around the North West. But until he died in 1982 he always lived with the memories of horrors we will never even be able to contemplate.
I will remember Frank Sayer, my Great Grandfather, who's letters home from the trenches of France in the First World War I now have and will look after carefully.
And we will also thank my late Uncle Peter, his son Daniel, my nephew Ben, who all served their country, and my cousin Justin who still does. For all they've done, seen and unseen, be it in Northern Ireland, Europe, Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo, or in readiness, and the friends they may be mourning today.
And we will think of how proud we are of our son Max, currently on the home front in this pandemic, doing what is asked of him today, just as he did in South Sudan with the UN mission.
To all who serve, thank you.