Thank you for that news, Maggie.
I know how that feels. About 5 years ago I discovered that the minister of a church in Ontario was looking for family of the two dozen men whose names were on the honour rolls of his church and the church that had burned down years ago and been amalgamated with his. My somewhat mysterious great-uncle was one of those men, from the burnt church. He enrolled at the age of 34, and was killed the month before the Armistice, never having married. I had googled his name, as I idly do from time to time, and found a newspaper article about the minister's search for families.
I corresponded with the minister over the next couple of years; it turned out that his grandfather and my great-uncle had been in the same field hospital in France where my uncle died, although his grandfather had survived. And in 2014, when the church had had the lost honour roll plaque from the burnt church recreated (they fortunately had a photograph), I was finally able to organize about 15 descendants of my great-uncle's siblings, including my 85-yr-old mum and her brother who was named for his uncle, to travel to the city in question and attend the Remembrance Day service marking the 100th anniversary of the start of the Great War, and rededicating the plaque. He had put together a slide show of everything he had learned about the men whose names were on the two memorials, and some family members of other men also attended, but we were a bit of a horde by comparison - and donated more than the cost of the plaque when all was said and done.
Keeping their names alive, especially when they did not have children of their own, is a good feeling.
