My grandfather's letter tells a story. He found a religious scapular by the road and this has been with him for years. It has made him well, quite miraculously, after a nervous breakdown. Saved his life, whilst people around him died (I have assumed this was during the second world war). He has looked all over the country for a scapular just like it so he can give away to friends and family and found none. He made a promise, to have a statue made in its honour if he can manage to raise all his children and give them a good life in the midst of all the hardships during the war. The statue was hand-carved, based from the image in the scapular. My grandfather had it made after a few years living with my uncle and his family in the US.
I love stories. I love family stories. I wished it was one of those my grandmother told me whilst she was still alive.
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