In 1944 my grandfather, Brig. Gen. J. B. Sweet, was serving in the U. S. Army in Tehran, supplying arms to the Soviets. His son Bob, after flying missions over Japan, was training new B-24 pilots in Nevada. His plane went down on a training mission, and all on board died.
His widow had twin boys two weeks old.
Since it was wartime, grandpa could not come home for the funeral. He had to bear it alone, far away. I don’t know how he did it. But the Lord was with him. And I never heard him complain about that, or about anything, as long as I knew him.