“Did Great-Grandpa really fight in the Great War?”
“He did.”
“What made it great, Mama?”
She sighed. This place’s heaviness only settled thicker during the holidays. She’d come every year on Christmas as a child. Too infrequently since. The ocean’s breeze whipped hair into the boy’s eyes and she tucked a lock behind his ear. He so reminded her of herself.
“Grandma Rose said it was because the Heavens everywhere lit with the great number of souls and broken hearts. The Great Loss, she called it.”
“A lot of Christmas angels, Mama?”
“Perhaps so.”
“I think Great-Grandpa is one, though.”
Note: Dedicated to all who are missing loved ones during the holidays, to all who are no longer with us for they’d given their lives (or parts of their souls) for others, in search of peace, in hope of no more war or hate or greed. May we do better, as a species. Let there be true peace on Earth.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
(Thank you Sandra Cook for the evocative photo prompt!)
Na'ama Yehuda 
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