My grandfather on my dad's side was a banker. My grandmother on that side was a homemaker. My grand-dad was a very bright guy who had a wicked sense of humor. He was a wonderful man.
I never knew my grandfather on my mom's side. He went off to the war as a smart and positive person, and came back totally broken and an alcoholic. He never recovered. He held done various laborer jobs, and my grandma would have to intercept his cheques otherwise he would drink them away. The family was poor but my grandma somehow made it work. He drank himself to death when my mom was in her early 20s. My grandma was an incredibly resilient and strong woman who lived a full and wonderful life (until alzheimer's slowly took her away) in spite of the man she married.
I don't blame him. The war broke him. He paid as much as a sacrifice, as those that lost their lives. The war killed him - but did so with tortuous pace.
|