It was a blur of statistics and impersonal language. As    civilians, as observers, we knew them as numbers, not as    individuals. When it was announced that we were withdrawing    troops from Afghanistan, they were just that: troops. Four    hundred and fifty three had died during the thirteen year    conflict. 453. Another statistic.  
    And then the Telegraph decided to create a tribute to the    members of the British Forces who died in Afghanistan to mark    the end of the Combat Mission on December 31 2014.    An appeal went out for staff members from all departments to    contact the families, friends and comrades for memories of    their loved ones. Im ashamed to admit that it was the first    time that I had thought at all about the men and women who had    not returned or about the families they had left behind. And I    had no idea how moving, inspiring, heart-breaking and powerful    a project it would be.  
    My first call was to Wayne Sparks. His son Georgie, a Royal    Marine, was killed on November 27 2008. He was 19. Wayne talked    about Georgie winning a swimming competition at the age of    five, I remember him getting out of the pool and turning to    me. His legs had gone to jelly, he was shaking with exhaustion,    and he just looked at me and said: Dad, did I do well? I    said, Yes Georgie, you did so well. I was so proud.  
    Wayne also told me, his voice aching with pain, how Georgie    always used to come home on Fridays to spend time with his    family. Now, on Fridays, I always find myself thinking Georgie    would be on his way home now. I was moved to tears. But, I    wondered, what right did I have to cry? Georgie was not my son,    my brother, or my friend. And yet...  
    I spoke to Tony Woodgate. His son Jo was killed on March 26    2010. He was 26. Tony told me that one of Jos friends had    described him as a Rockstar in Uniform. That quote is on Jos    gravestone.  
    Tony talked about his home, his job, the fund-raising his wife    is doing for Help for Heroes. Then he talked of regret. That    his greatest regret was that I didnt actually know him. The    friends that he made in the army, all the things that they have    all said about him since. Well, he was a bloody hero. And I    didnt know it. All I could do was listen. There were no words    of comfort I could offer.  
    Jennifer Loughran-Dicksons husband Robert died on November 18    2009. He was 33. Jennifer told me how they met in their local    takeaway, how when their son was young they would go on spur of    the moment road trips, which would always end up by a burger    van.  
    Then her voice turned raw: Since he died, it has been    horrible. Every time it comes to Remembrance Sunday, its like    living through it all over again. Every time it comes and you    lay a wreath, the grief comes all over again.  
    We will never be able to replace what these families have lost,    but we hope that our memorial is a place where some of these    memories, tributes and tales can live on. More than anything,    we hope that the Telegraphs tribute shows that those who died    in Afghanistan are not just troops. They are Georgie, Jo,    Robert, Olaf, Sarah, Damian, Ben. They are individuals, who    were - and still are - loved.  
    September 11 2001 is a day we will all remember. But each of    the families affected have their own day when their world came    crashing down. When a man in a uniform arrived at their door    and took off his hat.  
Read more from the original source:
Afghanistan 2001-2014: Creating The Telegraph's tribute