Community Engagement Officer Sue Knight reflects on Remembrance Sunday and being part of an Armed Forces family
For much of my life, I didn't particularly think of myself as part of the Armed Forces community, despite growing up in it. Remembrance Sunday became more meaningful as I got older and began to understand my family's military history.
I was born into a military family. My dad served for 22 years in the British Army as an Ammunition Technician, much of that time in bomb disposal during the Troubles in Northern Ireland. He was Mentioned in Despatches for gallant service.
My mum also served in the Women's Royal Army Corps, at a time when women had far fewer opportunities in the Army than they do today.
My older brother went on to serve as an Army Commando, including alongside the Parachute Regiment in Afghanistan.
Growing up, military life was simply normal. It was the world I was born into.
I knew my Dad did something dangerous and that there were things we weren't supposed to talk about. But as a child, I didn't really understand what his work involved or the risks he faced.
It wasn't until much later, when I began researching his service, that I discovered more about the men he worked alongside in one of the British Army's most highly decorated units, 321 EOD. Some of those men never returned home.
Years later, when my brother deployed to Afghanistan, I was old enough to understand what it meant to have someone I loved serving in a war zone.
In the summer of 2006, he was serving in Sangin, Helmand Province. I was at university, attending lectures, writing essays and getting on with student life. But knowing that my brother was in the middle of a war was always in the back of my mind.
My mum would send parcels filled with noodles, Tabasco sauce and little comforts from home, not just for my brother but for the men serving alongside him. I think it was one of the few practical things she could do from so far away.
It’s a strange feeling, powerlessness. There was very little we could do about where he was or what he might be experiencing. But we worried about him constantly.
Thankfully, he came home.
But others didn't, and I know that under different circumstances, it could have been very different.
Coming Home
Something I've come to appreciate over the years is that coming home doesn't necessarily mean returning unchanged.
People can come home carrying things they didn't leave with. Memories, friendships, grief, guilt and experiences that stay with them long after their service has ended.
Not all of those things are difficult. Some bring pride, strength, lifelong friendships and a sense of purpose. Others can be harder to live with. Sometimes they're all mixed together. And sometimes those experiences become part of family life too.
I've come to understand this through my own family and through conversations with veterans and other military families. What I’ve particularly noticed is how different everyone's experiences are. There isn't one story of military service, or one way of coming home.
Of course, Remembrance Sunday is especially about those who lost their lives. And I think it's also possible to acknowledge what service and sacrifice has meant for those who returned.
When I think about those who lost their lives, I find myself wondering about the people they were, beyond their military service.
The people we remember had families, friends, interests, routines and plans. They had people who made them laugh, people they worried about and people who worried about them.
When someone dies in service, all of that is lost too. And for those left behind, life continues, but without someone who was part of it.
That's what I'll be holding in mind during the two-minute silence. Not only the circumstances in which someone died, but the life they lived. Who they were, the people they loved and the life they might have gone on to live. And the lives that continued without them.
For me the interesting part is that for much of my life, I didn't particularly think of myself as part of the Armed Forces community, despite growing up in it. But that changed when I started looking into my family's history and spending more time with veterans and military families.
I've heard stories that have made me laugh, others that have moved me, and plenty that have challenged what I thought I knew.
It's also influenced my work in civic and community engagement at the University of Portsmouth, particularly through We See You, an initiative that recognises the experiences of Armed Forces-connected community.
But I think what I've taken most from those conversations is the realisation that there is so much we don't know about other people's lives until we take the time to listen.
What remembrance means to me
I don't think remembrance has to mean exactly the same thing to everyone.
There can be honour, grief, gratitude, pride, sadness, love and complicated feelings about war itself.
I've also become interested in remembering not only what those that have served did but also who they were as people.
What mattered to them? What made them laugh? What and who did they love? Who were they looking forward to seeing when they got home?
And for those who never returned, what might their lives have been?
My dad came home from Northern Ireland. My brother came home from Afghanistan. I will always be grateful for that, while recognising that coming home doesn’t mean leaving everything behind. Some experiences stay with those who served, sometimes for the rest of their lives.
This Remembrance Sunday, I'll be thinking about their service, the people who served alongside them and those who didn't come home.
I'll be thinking about the families who have lived with their absence, and how easily one of those families could have been mine.
We See You
We See You is a University of Portsmouth initiative bringing together research, education, professional practice and lived experience to strengthen understanding of Armed Forces, veteran, Blue Light and service-connected communities.
It explores how these experiences are recognised within education, employment and community settings, and how greater understanding can lead to more informed, inclusive and supportive practice.