After that flight took off a little boy toddled down the isle of the plane, stopped at my husband’s seat and lifted both of his arms in a sweet gesture that communicated his desire to be held.
My Grandfather was a WWII Battle of the Bulge Veteran and although his nature was to accept whatever life handed him and to move on, the memories of the brokenness and devastation that the war created left a shadow of questions that haunted him.
For years he did his best to cope, while raising a large family and tending to a farm. When his youngest grandchildren started asking about the war he found some healing by sharing stories with family and fellow veterans, but the questions themselves remained.
In 2004, 60 years after the battle he accompanied a number of veterans back to those battlefields. Considering the devastation of the homes, the cities and the lives that were directly impacted by the battles, grandpa was not sure what kind of a welcome they would receive. Much to his surprise, everywhere they went they were treated as heroes!
