Today, I came across Matt’s grandmother on Facebook. So naturally I had a little look at her profile, and noticed a photo she was tagged in.
I’ve seen the photo before. It was a lovely family photo, captioned “Four generations”. It was Matt’s grandmother, aunt, cousin and cousin’s baby daughter. Such a beautiful photo really.
Looking at this photo again, though, something came to me. I realised if our boys had made it home, that would’ve been Matt’s photo. Four generations of men in his family proudly smiling for the camera, two of them holding little bundles wrapped up in blue. That should have been his photo.
This realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. Just the thought that this memory should have been ours, along with a whole lifetime of memories stolen from us before the lives were even lived, had me bawling my eyes out. Our boys were the first (and second) great- grandchildren, and now they don’t even get mentioned, and the lifetime of memories we never got to make with them are being made with somebody else.
Oh, how my heart breaks for all the memories we never got to make.