Several years ago, while studying to become a journalist, I embarked on an assignment that was personal in nature. For my Feature Writing class at the Southern Alberta Institute of Technology (SAIT), I delved into the past of a prairie town and its historical cenotaph – a commemorative statue erected in honour of those who fought and fell in the First World War. The figure atop The Taber Cenotaph bears an uncanny resemblance to my great-great grandfather Thomas Love. In fact, there’s good reason for that as he was the inspiration for the rendering in Italian marble of a lone solider from WWI.

Though I had just begun to learn the skills of feature writing and journalism at the time I first wrote this piece in 2018, the assignment itself was rewarding as it combined a love for history, family genealogy, and community. I interviewed several family members, none of which I have had the opportunity to meet in person, a great-aunt, and two cousins twice-removed. One cousin, Roberta, I had plans to meet in person on a visit to Taber. I had never travelled there before and I longed to set eyes on the cenotaph myself after learning of the connection to my great-great grandfather. Unfortunately, Roberta passed away last year. More than a year after her passing I finally made the trip to the corn-capital of Canada to pay homage to the cenotaph and to dear Roberta, whom I shared a connection with over the last few years.

The article I wrote was originally submitted for a school assignment in 2018 but was later published by the Taber Times in 2021. Three years later in 2024, I found myself roaming the streets of Taber, the very streets where my forebears would have walked. A stranger in this prairie town, I wandered around the local park in search of the cenotaph. After striking up a conversation with a few locals I was directed to the location of the famed cenotaph. It was a special kind of reunion to come face-to-face with the image of my great-great grandfather. Barbara Cundy (née Love), my beloved nanny who died when I was only two years old, knew this man as her grandfather, but I never really knew either of them. Meeting Thomas, even a stone rendition, was like getting to attend a Love family reunion.

Thomas was a pioneer who emigrated from Scotland in the early 1900’s, a veteran of both world wars, father of ten children, and grandfather of many more. From what I knew about him, he was a man who bore the scars of the past but kept humour and laughter a part of his daily life. He embodied a special kind of resiliency that his generation was known for.

I am guilty of romanticizing the past as I think many history lovers will admit to, but I am also quite aware of how difficult life was during the early 20th century. Thomas’ story is significant as it provides us a window into the past. His experience was not unique and many men and women of his generation were deeply impacted by the World Wars. The impact has been felt by generation after generation since that time. But before the experiences of this generation fade away from memory and time completely, I hope we can glean something from their sacrifices and look back with respect and reverence.

Which is why before leaving this prairie town and the relics of its past, I made a stop at the local cemetery to see the final resting place of my forebears. As with any cemetery, it was a somber place, standing as a stark reminder that our time here on this earth is but a vapour – we are here today and gone tomorrow. I snapped some photos with the patriarch and matriarch of the Love family – Isabella Disher McKenzie and Thomas Hunter Love, and my great-grandfather Francis Albert Love, who lay in the field of valour, a resting place for veterans of World War II. I saw many other surnames I recognized from my time spent researching our family tree and paid my respects for each of my family.

Last but certainly not least, I said a sweet goodbye to my friend and cousin Roberta who will be missed. I am grateful to have landmarks I can visit and cherish that remind me of the sacrifices of a generation gone but not forgotten.