Steel was woven
into the fabric of your youth.
Perhaps you thought
no other man 

could replace the one you lost.
You called out for “my Iggy,” only once
as you lay dying. That was the first time
that I ever heard his name.

I grew up never knowing
of his life, or death in WWII,
and therefore never knew a thing
of him, or him with you.

Of the seven brothers
only one of us had his name,
but once you met my father,
that was quickly changed.

I know of no connection
between your Iggy and me,
other than my oldest brother,
who was born in Germany.

As I sorted out your things
I found a wedding ring-
‘Ignatius’ engraved upon it-
a reminder of your loss.

That, and a faded photograph
of his Iron Cross.

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