大象传媒

In 1917, at the age of seventeen, my father's elder sister gave birth to a boy, the father a young Canadian soldier. Off he went to France, to die.
Shortly after the war the parents of the soldier came to Europe, looking for his grave and for their grandson. My aunt reluctantly surrendered her son in the hope that they would give him a better start in life in Canada than she could possibly give.
About 1924 my aunt married, her husband aware of the past. She had two children.
Sometime during the latter part of the Second World War a knock came to her door. Standing there was a young Canadian soldier. He had come to find his mother. Off he went to France, to die. He lies not far from his father.
Shortly after the death of my aunt in the early 1960s, her son, by her marriage, emigrated to Canada with his family. Once settled, he traced the family who had raised his half-brother. It so happened they lived not far from him, but, sadly, declined a meeting.
They were old now with too many memories, full of latent loss, afraid to rekindle.

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