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Week 150: Remembering the Sons of Normandy

 

Introduction

This post is the first in a three-part series I’m sharing to coincide with the anniversary of my daughter Lily’s death. While traveling through Europe, I experienced many joyful moments — shopping in Paris, sipping coffee in a Parisian café, riding a canal boat in Amsterdam, and exploring charming cities like Bruges and Ghent. Yet, some places left a lasting weight on my heart. Normandy was one of them.

Remembering the Sons of Normandy

I arrived at Normandy beaches on a rainy day. Cold and wet, the gray sky pressed down as the rain pummelled the memorials. Water flooded the bunkers, and I imagined the boys who had been here — shivering, afraid, carrying guns they barely understood, unsure if they would survive.

Inside the museum, letters from parents to their sons captured ordinary life: a sister’s wedding, what they were having for dinner, small jokes, and snapshots of boys being boys — laughing, messy-haired, alive. These WWII letters from soldiers revealed the stark contrast between home and the horrors they faced.

Walking the Beaches

When I finally walked to the beach, now serene and peaceful, I could hardly reconcile the calm with what had happened here decades ago. I tried to imagine the young soldiers coming off the landing ships, hearts pounding, knowing many would not survive. The weight of their courage and stolen futures pressed down like the rain still dripping from my coat.

Each letter, photo, and footprint reminded me that these were not statistics. They were sons, brothers, friends — each one treasured, each one mourned. Remembering the young soldiers of Normandy is an act of love, and bearing witness connects personal grief to collective memory.

Grief Across Time

Even amidst the joy of my European travels — sipping coffee in Paris, riding a canal boat in Amsterdam, wandering charming streets — Normandy stayed with me. Grief, whether for sons lost in history or for my daughter Lily, calls us to remember. To remember is to honor life.

Reflection & Engagement

Have you ever visited a place that made history and loss feel real? How do you honor loved ones in your own life? Sharing reflections can be a quiet way to bear witness together — please leave a comment below.


 

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