Thursday 18 December 2014
The Breath of Loved Ones
Sometimes it hits home. The first church of the day for Mr. Many Coats and I was All Saints, Horsford. It was a murky morning with smudgy skies and a tang of wood smoke in the air. I made my way through the churchyard gate and walked slowly towards the church. And then I saw this monument commemorating the fallen men from the village; lads who perished during the carnage of the First World War... more than just names on a cold marble monument though - names once spoken, warm on the breath of loved ones, 'Will, Tom, Harry, Reg, Fred, Bert...'
Standing still and reflecting a while, I feel the terrible loss. It makes me savour the privilege of a day to come exploring things I love.
Lives of the First World War
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Among their many shades of meaning, churches are repositories of communal memory
ReplyDeleteWhat happened to "never again!"?
ReplyDeleteJoanne,
ReplyDeleteI think the answer to that one is, 'politicians'