This is one of the two photographs we have of our paternal grandparents, Michael and Julia. They were in their mid-twenties, in the middle of the First World War. Julia's wedding ring is just about visible, and I am amused to see that Michael was a smoker. This was a habit his son, my father, also indulged in to the detriment of his health. Michael was also clearly a non-drinker, as the badge on his lapel shows he is a member of an association that promotes total abstinence from alcohol.
The life that this young pair had mapped for themselves must have seemed promising. Michael was a tailor, Julia a dressmaker. Michael's mother and sisters were skilled lace-makers. Such craftsmanship was highly respected and in demand in an era and in an area where people relied on their own skills to provide their clothing needs.
Some of their skills were passed on to my father, who never failed to astonish us in our teenage years by his ability to do invisible mending.
This young couple's dream was shattered when Michael died tragically in a drowning accident while their first child, my father, was still a small infant. He had gone swimming with a companion, who was a much stronger swimmer and who went ahead of Michael rapidly. Michael got into difficulties, was unable to alert his companion, and lost his life.
This is indeed a treasured photo, but it is also a very sad one. So many unrealised hopes. So many dashed dreams for the young woman who would shortly have to face life as a widow with a tiny child.So many hard days, so many lonely nights ahead.