“Did you know that First World War lasted four years mummy? And that the Second World War lasted six years?”
The words of my five-year-old stopped me in my tracks.
Clearly he’d been learning about the world wars at school and this meant everything.
We worry that as the generations pass, they will stop learning or caring about our past – about the British soldiers who gave their lives to fight for their country.
But learning they still are – and well.
At their weekly rugby class on Remembrance Sunday, there was a minute’s silence at 11am and kids as young as four lined up in their groups to remember the fallen.
I hastily wiped a tear from my cheek before catching the eye of another parent doing exactly the same and sharing a laugh.
Who’s to say what’s going through their wee minds?
My boys are awfully proud their great-great-grandad Jock Reilly from Dundee fought and died in the Second World War and that warms my heart.
Ex-servicemen and members of the public paid their respects throughout Dundee in touching tributes and somehow, this year, it’s more touching than ever.
Kindness is often talked about in line with the global pandemic – that we all hope it’s made us a little kinder, thinking less of material objects and more of helping others.
But respect is huge too.
The respect we have for our elderly and those – not least medical staff and the NHS – at the coal face.
I feel, as you may do too, a sense of sadness.
When will this all end? When can we stop wearing masks? How can you tell if someone is smiling? When can we have pals round? When can we live the life we took for granted a short time ago?
We feel unanchored.
We worry – about finances, health, dependents, the future.
Some have bigger problems than others but even a tiny problem in a noisy head can feel overwhelming.
I asked a friend how she was over coffee last week and she started sobbing, setting me off too.
Much more of this and “unanchored” might turn to “unhinged”.
Through it all, to have the constant of a day like Remembrance Sunday, feels like a foundation, a mooring, which can remind us of the courage of others who came before us.
My favourite Dundee landmark at this time of year is always the High School of Dundee’s pillars bathed in poppies and its November 11 parade.
People have got through much worse than this. Wives didn’t know if they’d see their husbands again. Children waved goodbye to fathers for the last time. Everyone lived in physical danger every moment of every day.
By remembering their strength, we’ll get through this too.
This article originally appeared on the Evening Telegraph website. For more information, read about our new combined website.