We think that's her. Her name is Eunice.
Dad and his dad decorated the graves of family every Memorial Day. That's what the day was for, and Dad and my grandfather did it for years. Drove a couple hours to the old home to do it. One of the last times they went was shortly before my grandfather died.
That's the grave of your sister, Pop said. Out of the blue clear sky.
Dad never knew he had a sister. I can imagine the shock that had to be, to find out in your late 60's that there was a sister you never knew about. I remember that day at the kitchen table Dad mentioning what Pop said, and acting like it was no big deal, but you could feel the wheels turning. I don't think he asked his dad any questions after finding out -- they didn't have that kind of relationship. So the story was buried with Pop and the others who knew but never told. That was twenty years ago.
She died very young. I don't know how. It seems unfair for her to have lived and be part of a family story but no one knows what part.
Reading Carrying Our Bones made me think of that.
Thank you for the link, Greg. You have a terrific blog here, and I plan to come back often.
Posted by: Charlie | Monday, January 15, 2007 at 02:02 AM
Sorry. Gary! It's late here and my eyes are blurring. :)
Posted by: Charlie | Monday, January 15, 2007 at 02:04 AM