Sat with the box open, the feeling of sadness overwhelms the old man.

The faded photograph held in trembling aged hand. Memories, memories. Alone with his thoughts, a lifetime ago yet crisp and clear like a winter sunrise, Old Man George weeps for his lost sweetheart.

Taken from his tender care a desolate decade ago. A bitter battle with cruel cancer that had laid her so low. Blinking back the tears from his eyes. The eyes that see beyond the years.

George felt bereft. Gone, the sweetest love a man could ever have, true deep and heartfelt.

Transported in a flash, back to the full flush of youth. Gasping  for air, grasping at the sand, pinning for his lover. June '44 George stormed the Normandy shore.

Pals and comrades sycthed down by German guns lay dead. Unable to stop, powerless to help George stumbled  blindly ahead.

The only comfort a photograph taken in paradise. A token of humanity amid this *******. Shaking with fear a sandy finger traces over the sepia. Calmness amongst screaming yelling hysteria.

The memories, the horror and the hope. The memories,  the terror and the tragedy. George, proud old soldier, carries the burden. A weight of grief on his shoulders.    
Once so strong so brave, now ageing and frail. Tight lipped and deathly pale.

The sadness reflects in his shining tear reddened eyes.