My great-grandfather was killed during WWI in 1917 in the muddy trenches at Ypres, Belgium. I am thankful that my great-grandmother never knew what he must have gone through. My great-grandmother was sent this card in 1920. See the little arrow in the top left showing the location of the grave?
Here is the cemetery in 2004 when his surviving family (all but one) went on a "pilgrimage" to Ypres.
My grandmother was five when he died, and her little brother was less than a year old. My great-grandfather never saw his son. He sent back this delightful hand-drawn postcard to my great-grandmother, showing what he thought his baby might look like.
He will be forever talented, young and fun-loving in my mind.
"Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them."