I never got to meet Harry Gordon, my grandmother’s favorite sibling, who was killed in Berdorf Luxembourg at the Battle of the Bulge on December 26th, 1944.

What I hold in my heart is a ghost loss. One that isn’t mine directly but is mine to carry.

I hold the loss of the partner he never met, the children he didn’t have. The cousins I will never know because of his valor. I hold the loss of his smile, his sense of humor, the safety of his existence in a world overrun by Nazis.

This ghost loss is a transferred loss, from women who guarded my childhood with their love. From his mother, my great-grandmother, who ran from progroms (in Brody, in the Austro-Hungarian Empire) only to lose her only son to Nazism in Europe. She was never the same. From his sister, my grandmother, who wasn’t either. I remember visiting my great-grandmother in a nursing home toward the very end of her life, and her face exploded into crinkles of joy when I walked into the room, simply because I was there. In the same way my grandmother would be so thrilled at my arrival for a visit she forgot how to unlock her screen door.

I enjoyed the immense privilege of getting to walk in Harry’s footsteps this Spring: first in Normandy, where he landed on Utah Beach, then in Vidouville where he first saw combat, and finally in Berdorf where he was killed.

Walking in his footsteps helped me get to know him a little better, and for that I am immensely grateful.

It is an honor to hold tight to the memory of someone I did not meet in this life, in this way his memory is truly a blessing.

Thank you to Joey, Jenny, and Florent for helping us hold PFC Harry Gordon, Patton’s 3rd army, 5th Infantry Division, 2nd Infantry Regiment, Company B more deeply in memory and appreciation.

And here, some joy:

It’s impossible to describe the feelings from last week, so I’ll trust you to sense it from this pic.

May all our ancestors know the through-line of the love that connects us. I know they do, but still. No sacrifice is in vain.