We raise unworthy hand to head and salute.

You see the evil, the horrors are known,
And still you stand and soldier on.
Your war-born brothers lost en route,
But still you wear your heroes suit.

We raise unworthy hand to head and salute.

At home, the parents, children, husbands, wives,
Prove Just as heroic with their sacrifice.
Whether war is just or not,
You won’t be despised or forgot.

We raise unworthy hand to head and salute.

We wear a flower of black and red,
To stand by soldiers here and dead.
It isn’t much, a symbol bloomed,
It can’t undo the scars of doom
It speaks of all you gave and lost,
Of what’s still given and the cost.

So with thanks and with our freedom paid we raise unworthy hand to head and salute.

Or are they? Well yes in that I am both of those things physically. But I don’t feel grown up yet. I don’t feel as though I am finished. When I wrote those words the first, Dad, was an emotional response to the relationship I have with my Dad. Is he the best Dad in the world? I can’t qualify that with a resounding yes. Has he made mistakes? Yes. But he is the best Dad for me. He loved me and I knew it and at the tender age of 7 I wanted to do likewise.

When I also wrote Designer on that piece of paper I was being inspired by another good man. His name was David Blackwell, he was an architect and a minister of religion and I used to sit next to him in my church and he was partnered with me as a mentor. He used to sit and draw the preachers and doodle all through the service. He was always the more ‘kooky’ of the adults. He would never be too busy to draw with me even as I grew older. Sadly cancer got the better of him. I realised then, that although someone with a great intellect, he didn’t take himself too seriously and loved life and acted like growing up was for boring people. Why should you stop doodling in church if it made you happy? Why did I not want to be an Architect instead like him? I remember him telling me that he thought I would make a great designer. It stuck with me. He believed in me.

My dad loved me and made it known to me. It stuck with me. He believed in me. I recall him showing other people my doodles and seeing genuine pride in his face.

I’m aware of all the mistakes I make and will make, the times I will forget I’m the grown-up when it comes to forgiving my kids, asking to be forgiven and sacrificing for them. As long as I show them they are loved, that someone believes in them and in their dreams, that in me they will always have their number one fan. If I also can show them that the times I love my job, when I let go and let the kid that used to doodle take over then I will one day look at the words Dad and Designer and know that I have achieved my goals.