Memorials mean more as the years go on, memories steeped in age and history. Lately, I have been thinking about the measure of a photograph. In a split second, a photo can capture memories and emotions that may have nothing to do with the actual photograph. I’m sure many books have been written on the phenomena.

I marvel at how I can cry or laugh because of a single moment captured on film. My emotions are probably triggered by some combination of love and curiosity.

In this photograph, my Gammy Susan and Grandpa Morris are shown with their daughter, my mother, Barbara.

My Grandpa Morris had been drafted and was headed to Europe to serve our country in World War II. I can imagine the ache that must have pained their hearts; the uncertainty ahead; the grief of saying goodbye.

At her young age, my mother didn’t really have a full grasp of what was happening, but she certainly felt the weight of her father’s impending departure.

Seventy years later, my own heart fills in the blanks. I wish I could have been there to hug each of them and assure them that everything would turn out alright.

This snapshot, this glimpse of a fleeting moment in 1944, defies time. It holds hundreds of memories, events and emotions. No measure is possible. ~shared by @missheidilouise