The sweater that he put around my shoulders. It is a tightly knit navy blue wool sweater from a boys camp he went to in Maine with his name sewn into the collar by his Mother. Hangs in the hall now as if I still think he will come back for it and maybe I do although it has been over 50 years ago since he died. He was only 26. Before the War an English teacher at a boy's school. he had curly blond hair, and deep blue eyes in a young looking face, which looks back at me every day from the framed photograph on my bureau.