I cannot compute this kind of love where you must let them go…

photo 3I wonder what its like to wave goodbye to half your children. To hug your five sons before they have barely become men and know its very likely you will never see them again.

I cannot compute this kind of love where you must let them go in order to keep them safe from the wars front line.


We here can never imagine life as such a daily struggle. Small pockets of earth amongst hard rock, salt winds, hot, hot summers and freezing winters, five daughters and war about to reach your doorstep.

How good were these boys at writing home? Did she hear who they had married, when they had children? How hard it must have been to hear that Zac had died.  Was he alone or in hospital with a brother at his side? Just 49 years old. Why didn’t you ever go back Grandpa?

So many questions. I wish Grandpa was here so I could ask him all these and more. I wish when we come back from Brac I could sit with Grandpa and tell him what we saw, what we smelt, who we meet. How big the olive trees are now. I can see how his mouth moved as he threw his head back and laughed. I can hear his voice.

Before returning to Croatia Rina had pressed $100 into my hand asking that I see the headstone repaired so his details can be read. I asked who else could contribute and before long we had a new bronze plaque made. Yesterday we met at Zac’s graveside with Tony & Duane, Trevor & Rita, Gilbert & I, Maree & Derek, Charlotte & Jason, David, and Lindy where we fixed the plaque in place and Trevor said some lovely words.  Sara joined us later at Charlotte’s place for dinner and lots of laughs. Some have been to Croatia, some of us on our way soon. All bound together tightly by our links to Brac and the families there. I am so happy this link has brought us together as we share every little snippet, every photo, every story.

RIP Zac.


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