WORLD WAR TWO ended September 2nd, 1945.   That year winter came early to my home town of Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.  On November 11th with my classmates we walked in bitter cold  the two miles from school to attend the Remembrance Day ceremonies at  the Armouries.    For the first time in seventy five years I will not  attend a Remembrance Day ceremony.  We will watch the laying of wreaths on television and then my husband and I will place our poppies on the Cenotaph  in our village of Ladner, British Columbia.



If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England.  There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed:

Gave,  once,  her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home


remembrance day 3 soldiers

And think, this heart,all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given,

Her signs and sounds; dream happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends;  and gentleness,

In hearts at peace,  under an English heaven.


My father-in-law  grew up in a quiet town in Southern Ontario.  He enlisted and his training as a flight sergeant took place in an equally small town in Saskatchewan.  This is where he met and married.    He returned from the war to live t he rest of his life in    Saskatchewan.  He is survived by his two sons.



My uncle,  Bertram Henry Henderson grew up in my home town, Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.  He and his two brothers all enlisted in the Regina Rifles.  He died in action October 27, 1944.  His last letter home was dated October 27, 1944.  It was written in the dim light of a candle in a bottle.  The letter was in his effects returned to the family.



My older sister and myself with my Uncle shortly before he was shipped overseas.


This document shows the location of his grave in Belgian.  It also identifies the family who would be responsible for the maintenance and care of his grave site.




Our Uncle’s grave continues to be looked after by the Belgian Family entrusted in their care more than 70 years ago.  Members of that family continue to maintain contact with our family.


My father grew up in a small village in southern England.  He fought in the war to end all wars (World War One).  When war ended he immigrated to Canada to join his older brothers in Northern Saskatchewan.  The only time he talked about the war  was to tell us how  he had befriended some Turkish prison of war soldiers and they had taught him  to make Turkish coffee.

Today we fight a grim and different war.    There are no battlefields.  The enemy is unseen.  If we follow  the health protocol that has been given us we will win this battle.




(  poem  … The Soldier – Rupert Brooke)


    • Tomorrow is Remembrance Day for Canadians (and those who belong to the Commonwealth), Lar and I will got to the cenotaph in our little village of Ladner. I know I will shed a few tears Tinny.

    • When we lived in Amsterdam the Dutch sounded the air raid warning (from world war 2) once a week. EVERYONE would stop for two minutes of silence. It was eerie to suddenly see bicycle traffic, people on the street and in the stores… all stop in the tracks until the warning stopped.

  1. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about your post, Virginia. I especially love the photograph of your Uncle with the two children. What a beautiful tribute. Big Hugs, Theadora (So the same family is taking care of his grave? Amazing. Wonderful, too.)

    • Dearest Theadora. We have just returned from a Remembrance Day ceremony at the cenotaph in our little village. The crowds were enormous. I am sure all of us were thinking of the two Canadian soldiers killed in Ottawa and Quebec a few weeks ago. Shed more than a few tears.
      The children in the photograph are my older sister and myself.

  2. Such a beautiful, loving tribute, Virginia! My misty eyes were made moister when I learned a Belgian family tends your uncle’s grave. I had no idea they were so cared for. Resa xoxo
    PS Who wrote the wonderful poem?

  3. Resa, the poem was written by Rupert Brooke (l887 – 1915) – an English poet known for his idealistic war sonnets written during the first world war. The photograph of the soldier (my Mother’s younger brother) with myself and my older was taken just before he shipped out. XX V.

  4. What a lovely tribute, Virginia. I thought that poem was Brooke’s. My f-i-l landed at Omaha Beach and was also in the Pacific theater, emerging alive but not completely unscathed. We have Veteran’s Day on Wednesday, which is, unlike Memorial Day, for thanking living veterans. But both are always appropriate.


    • Shortly before my Uncle left for overseas he visited our home. He had a gift for my mother. A black Bakelite bracelet studded with rhinestones. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I continue to look for a similar bracelet in thrift shops and yard sales, Miss T. I believe the bracelet was the beginning of my love for sparkly jewellery et all.

    • We’ve just returned from a trip to Toronto to visit our grandchildren and great grandchildren. An experience that makes my heart beat faster, Janet. Thank you so very much for asking. XX Virginia

    • It’s always a poignant time. We attended the ceremony at the cenotaph in out small village. There were hundreds of people of all ages. We don’t forget, Resa. XXOO Virginia

  5. When post-traumatic-stress is not dealt with properly the fall-out can come in terrible and costly ways. Both the body and the mind must be repaired. It is shameful this neglect persists even with all the knowledge of its dangers.

  6. Third time for me with this post, I think, and I still am moved by it. You might enjoy the two series by Charles Todd, the mother-son writing team that writes so beautifully about WWI and its aftermath. Bess Crawford is a nurse in one series and Ian Rutledge a shell-shocked veteran at Scotland Yard in the other.


    • Dear Janet, Each year I return to this post and add something new. There has been a great deal of conversation with my younger sister about our Uncle Bert. My sister recently discovered letters he had written to my Grandmother (tucked away with bits and bobs of papers. They were beautifully written and one of them was written on the day he died. It was never delivered. I love the writings of Charles Todd (mother son) and I have read every book they’ve written. Cheers Virginia

  7. This is beautiful. What a wonderful post. It really brings home the poignancy of these losses. Thank you for sharing.

    Your readers may also like Ghosts of the Poppies, published on November 10, 2019, as well as For The Fallen, on November 11, 2019, both at

    Again, thank you. And I’m now following your amazing blog.

    • We attend Remembrance Day ceremonies in our small village of Ladner, BC. It is reassuring to be part of the large crowd that gather every year. It is a global. People of every nationality gathered to share in Remembrance Day and I hope for continued peace.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s