My personal remembrance assembly:
This assembly is partly about the remembrance day ceremonies that will be carried out around the world on 11th November, in remembrance of those who died in WW1, WW2 and war in general. It is also about the personal nature of remembrance for me and for others……
Remembrance Day is just one of many that take place throughout the year across the world to mark various events in History. Remembrance is usually related to soldiers who died in war – fighting for their country out of duty or conviction. Nowadays remembrance events are also held for the victims of genocide such as the WWII Holocaust and the Rwanda genocide in the 1990s.They are also held for victims of terrorism – such as The September 11th Remembrance events – or natural disasters like the Tsunami.
This picture shows a woman finding the name of her son who was one of the firemen that died in the World Trade Centre on September 11 2001
Today I want to tell you about an event that is particularly important to me personally……………….
On 4th December 1977 Malaysia Airlines Flight 653 from Kuala Lumpur to London was hijacked by terrorists from the Japanese Red Army. The pilots were killed and the plane crashed in the swamps of Tanjung Kupang near Johore Bahru in Malaysia. 100 People died; there were no survivors. The investigations into the incident suggested that, after demanding that the flight was re-directed to Singapore, a fight broke out, possibly with guns, and the pilots were killed.
Initially, there was suggestion of a mid-air explosion. But actually the cause was simply that, with the pilots killed, the plane was out of control and crashed to the ground. Imagine how frightening that would have been. The crash was so violent no bodies were found in the wreckage; just a few body parts.
This is the mass grave and memorial in Johore Bahru. Another list of names….
And just like every memorial every name is someone’s father, mother, brother, sister, husband, wife, daughter, son, friend. But for me this event and this memorial represent a defining part of my life – and for my mother, my brother and my sister.
My father, Richard Sherrington, was one of the people on the plane;. He had been working for the British Council and was on his way back home after a business trip to Kuala Lumpur. He died along with 99 other people from all over the world –including the hijackers themselves. The story was reported on the television news, which is how my mother heard about it. Since then, it is all but forgotten…….
When my father died I was 12 years old; he was 37. The initial feeling of shock and disbelief was soon replaced by a long period of grief. It was extremely painful for my family and it took a long long time for us to get back to normal. We all tried to make sense of it but there is no sense to be made from terrorism. In our case the hijackers never made any political demands or statements – there was no cause; no reason. My father died for no reason at all and that is hard to take.
Eventually we did get back to normal. Obviously my mother had a very difficult time, becoming a widow and bringing up her three children on her own - but 10 years later she remarried and has now been married for over 20 happy years. Actually we have a very happy family and feel grateful for that.
Over the years the act of remembrance has been vital. Every year, although I think about my father almost every day, I still take time on the anniversary of his death to think about him and how my family was affected by losing him. It is a permanent regret that we never knew each other as adults. Our relationship is forever stuck in the 1970s when I was still a kid. It is also a great sadness to me that my wife and my children will not meet him and he will never meet them. Grief is partly about coming to terms with missing someone, losing the love and joy that they brought you… but later it also becomes an anger at being robbed of the relationship that might have been…. I felt that very strongly in my early 20s, a time when I wanted to speak to him more than ever.
But now, with over 30 years of grief and remembrance behind me, I look back on my childhood fondly – not full of anger or despair. I still feel that I had a priviledged upbringing and although I am not religious, I feel that my father is with me in spirit. This is all in my mind of course, reinforced by photographs and memories, but, without question, he is still a part of my life. In time my children will learn about their grandfather and what he was like.
Although the grief subsides, it never quite goes away and, on a bad day, I can still cry (quite easily in fact) and feel the pain of missing my father and wishing I could talk to him again.
I used to think that Remembrance Day wasn’t relevant to me – that the wars were over and people should move on. But now I see it differently…. As time goes on it is more important to remember; not less. My personal remembrance matters more now as I cling onto memories of my Dad that are more and more distant with each passing year.
Remembrance is not celebration of war or disaster; it is not just about honouring those that died. It is about giving support to people, families and communities who suffer the consequences of tragedy – including war and violence – long after the event. The collective act of remembrance gives people strength and helps us to focus on all that is right and good about human society striving for peace.
My Dad was not a war hero. But we was a human being that gave a lot of joy to a lot of people; he mattered. Through terrorism, my Dad became the innocent victim of an act of violence. In telling you my story, it helps me on a personal level to share and to remember; and I hope that in turn I can help you to connect to events that may seem remote…
This week, spare some time to give your support for the millions of people who will be taking part in Remembrance Day for those who have died in war and remember, when you pass a memorial of any kind – each name on the list is a person who mattered and who matters still.
My Dad died before the era of video so we can’t ever see or hear him as he was. However we have plenty of pictures of him and we are also fortunate to have some recordings of him singing.
These are songs we used to play a lot when we were younger. They are Edwardian Music Hall songs of the type my Dad used to love playing on the piano. He and some friends had an LP printed up of some recordings they made and I’ve just converted them to digital files. It’s a different kind of remembrance to listen to them, imagining him singing and playing the piano in our front room as he always did. The first is very poignant; about a boy longing for his father to return from the Boer War.
The second is a piece of family folklore.. our Dad making us laugh with the story of a boy who played ‘The Hole in the Elephant’s Bottom’.