From the time I was a little girl I’ve heard the stories of Uncle Ron. Saw the medals…framed on the walls of my grandparents home.
I’ve read the letters…looked at the pictures.
On Remembrance Day, he’s who I think of. Never having met the man who died so long before my birth…I know that his loss had an impact on the people I love.
His loss, at 26 years of age, changed my family’s history.
My Pop was a “writer” who kept daily journals and wrote thousands of letters. His words, his writing, his pen…it’s part of who I am.
In an album he held so dear, are the memories. The beautifully handwritten letters between two brothers containing news of babies, loved ones back home, harrowed times of war and everyday life.
And an envelope.
Returned to sender.
When my Uncle Ron was gone.
Each of us has a story. Has a loss. Has a memory. None of us forgets for how could we?
It’s part of who we are.
And those we love.
Like you, Uncle Ron was part of my life. Mom (Marie) mourned the loss of her brother until now dementia has taken that pain away. So nice seeing his picture on your post.
While the pain may be gone…I guarantee he’s part of her heart.
It really is amazing to feel like you “know” someone…to have that person part of your life…but, to never have met them.
Ron changed our family and those we love.