Psalm 103 - The life of mortals is like grass

15The life of mortals is like grass,

they flourish like a flower of the field;

16the wind blows over it and it is gone,

and its place remembers it no more.

In memory of my uncle Bernard, who died on the Birma Railroad. He is buried in Thailand, I wonder if my aunt was able to visit his grave ever.

A very talented man, a tropical forest engineer. My uncle and aunt were so young, he was 39 when he died and my aunt 36 at the time, a prisoner of war on Java. My aunt never remarried.
War is so useless, so pointless, so destructive.
This week I visited an elderly lady. In her kitchen she had a huge handwritten note: peace starts at home. So true!

Today we commemorate the end of World War II in Indonesia.
Born after the war I only know my uncle from stories within the family. My aunt lived nearby and was my teacher in the early days at school. 

The grass shown here was a seedling on our terrace. It grew and grew and became very wide and large. It's forms were amazing. It is tough, it is there to stay.