A life not lived and a life gotten to live

This is a story that has been told to me about my grandfather and his brother, my granduncle. War World II had gripped the nation and my granduncle being young and eager signed up for the Royal Canadian Armed Forces. Before he was accepted to the Armed Forces he needed to go through the medical tests of the day; make sure he wasn't flat footed, didn't have any eye problems and in that day in age wasn't left-handed. He was also given a Penicillin shot, another standard procedure of the day. My granduncle was dead within 72 hours of receiving it. He was allergic to penicillin and it killed him; a healthy, young man with anything ahead of him. The Canadian Government denied my family compensation for his death because he wasn't technically in the Armed Forces. It probably didn't help their case that they and he were Indians to use the jargon of the day.

Not long after conscription came into effect, all youths 18 and older were required to sign up for a tour of duty with the Royal Canadian Armed Forces. You understand what a outrage this proved to my family with a son old enough to be sent. One son dead, uncompensated and now Canada demanding a new sacrifice. Luckily for the family, Canadian birth records for the time weren't too accurate for, excuse my language, Indians. My grandfather was told he was 15 years old and sent to live in a remote spot of British Columbia for the duration of the conscription.

The family denied any knowledge of a son being any older and till the day he died we never knew how old he actually was. I remember trying to figure it out, but he could never remember if they added the years back after the war of not. My grandfather lived to see his branch of the family out number his brothers combined and lived to see his grandchildren having children of their own.

What I remember on this day? A life not lived and a life gotten to live.