Old wounds run deep. My uncle -- the one who gave me the guidance on my speech I so desperately needed -- called me up not too long ago. He's 84 and for the life of me never said a word to anyone about anything that happened to him in Europe in 1944-45.
He gave me the name of a friend of his who is buried in the American cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach who was killed in the fighting there on D-Day. If I can find it, I'm going to bring him back a picture of the headstone, and maybe a Vietnam Wall-style tracing of the name, when in go there in June.
My uncle was and is a hard man. He was never mistaken for a sentimentalist. He could barely talk about this on the phone when he called me.
Some wounds never heal.
He gave me the name of a friend of his who is buried in the American cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach who was killed in the fighting there on D-Day. If I can find it, I'm going to bring him back a picture of the headstone, and maybe a Vietnam Wall-style tracing of the name, when in go there in June.
My uncle was and is a hard man. He was never mistaken for a sentimentalist. He could barely talk about this on the phone when he called me.
Some wounds never heal.
My grandmother wanted my folks to go to the national cemetery in Manila and take a picture of my uncle's grave on one of their trips around the world, but my grandmother died before my mother and dad went to the Philippines. She said she wanted to know that his grave was being taken care of.
I don't think the wounds will ever heal for any of the survivors. It was a horrible thing that happened to all of them. They lived through Hell on Earth.
I hope you're able to get that picture for your uncle.