I am always moved by the things that are in memory of the oh so many fallen. I have lots and lots of the German cards in memory of the fallen, but on those you have a name, a hometown and often even a few sentences about how and where they fell, and where they were buried. You can research a story, even possibly find their present graves. They can be remembered again by someone. On the British “death pennies” the person is also identified and one can research them.
However, then there are those who remain nameless…. Here is one.
Not totally nameless in this case, there is a first name: Harry. And that is all. He was known and remembered at one time, but this memento somehow ended up on its own, did the last members of his family die and it ended up in some antique shop? Did someone save it from a garbage can? Was it sold by some relative who did not care about the memory of a distant relative and preferred to take the few pounds it could fetch? I have no idea and I will never know, but it saddens me somewhat anyway.
His close family obviously wanted to remember him and honor him and put the photo of him in uniform in this huge frame. It is a wooden frame around a plaster plaque with copper finish. A massive and beautiful frame with fabulous reliefs. The legend is “The path of duty was the way to glory”. It can not have been cheap, this frame. Inside is a rather simple picture of a man in uniform, bareheaded, standing beside a chair. What a contrast!
On the back of the photo are a few words, enough to say something about him and who honored him in this way, but way too little to identify him and his family. It just reads: “Brother Harry killed in war.”, no more…
Who was this man? Where did he serve? How did he die and when? Where is he buried? We will never know. But, he once lived, and someone kept living and remembered him and loved him enough to honor him in this way. I wish his memento would have remained in his family, but it was not to be.
I was recently given this as a gift by an old friend. He feels the same as me about this. And wanted me to do something to honor the mans memory.
So, having written this, I bow my head for a minute of silence for a man I never knew, a man I will never know the identity or history of. All I know is he lived, was loved, died in a terrible conflict, and was missed by someone.
Here’s to you Harry, wherever you are! No one is really gone as long as people remember you, and though so little is remembered now, we know your first name and can still see your face..
