Respect For The Dead by Misti

Ding dong the wicked witch is dead! And there is outcry from her wealthy supporters over a song that I’m quite sure would have brought a wry smile to that pious face of hers. An apparent £10 million cost for the iron ladies funeral; of which a great financial burden falls upon the nation, making one wonder with a title like that shouldn’t she have been melted down for scrap and the rewards reinvested in a nation that without doubt she brought to its knees?
Have some respect, I hear you say! Well shockingly I do! I have respect for the fact that she was a strong and feisty lady who stood firm in her beliefs. As for the Falklands war; she is accredited with having won it, though in truth it fell into her hardy lap at a time when her right to reign was in question. It was the wisdom and experience of true military leaders who dictated how the war was to be won and It was our soldiers who not only won that war but who paid the costly price.
Having a strict upbringing, I was taught never to answer back and always respect my elders. Yet I was the foolish child who stood up to my Labour Devoted Dad and proclaimed my admiration for the woman who gallantly defied the Argies and whom spoke with the same commanding voice as that old legend Winston Churchill. I shall never forget the thunder that erupted in my fathers voice, nor the fire in his eyes as I refused to back down, matching his argument and at times defeating it. Yet now years later, I am mortified to recall the event, knowing as I did that my father had buried many miner friends, both from pit tragedies and then again from the shame of having lost the jobs that they were so proud of. The Welsh valleys were suddenly silent and the miners stripped of both earnings on which to feed their families and pride in which to stand tall.
And then there were the people who lost their homes, whose families were torn apart by absolute hardship the likes of which were both inhuman and incomprehensible. It appears to be a common trait with certain governments throughout time, that the poor are those who will always be made to pay the ultimate price and then be called upon to stand at the side of said demonic rulers when war is declared; and whom will willingly give their lives fueled by a desire to protect our once Great Nation, born of a floundering belief that in doing so we will indeed once again be Great…
So yes I have deep respect for the dead; for the War Veterans, for the Defeated Miners, for the people whose dignity was torn away from them as they lost their homes and families and fell into a trap of living rough on the streets until weakened by morality, bones chilled to numbness and heart in bitter tatters succumbed to a heaven that they hoped would bring them relief…

R.I.P and my heartfelt respect is with you…

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