William, Brian's father fought in WW1.  His medals were in a lovely old wooden box in a drawer in our bedroom.  Brian pulled them out to look at and talk about them fairly often.  He was proud of his Dad.  I believe he hoped his grandchildren might inherit and value this bit of family history.

 

 

It is the 17th of October, two months now since Brian died. It is a beautiful sunny warm fall day on Vancouver Island. Austen and I went for a great hike with Merrick, (his little son) to Goldstream Provincial Park where we hiked up to a trestle railway bridge. The rail is now unused, and is about 260' above a stream. After a prayer I let the remains of Brian's ashes float down from the fire barrel platform at the middle of the bridge. As they dropped gently away from me I saw a rainbow on them. The 18th of October is yet another full moon. Goodbye Brian.

I turned to a tree who had lost its leaves - she knew how I was feeling. I turned to a rock who knew how hard it was to be one and only. I turned to a blade of grass because there were bonds I had to sever. I turned to wildflowers in a wood and they gave me some assurance. I turned to a friend who sat with me until she had to be leaving. I turned to Shaddai who stayed with me and helped me through my grieving. Miriam Therese Winter