On a recent visit with children of my late aunt, I was shown a binder filled with her recollections. Several stories involved my father, her only surviving sibling, and their first cousins. Daddy, 4, and his sister, 2, lost their infant baby sister and mother in December 1918. Their first cousins, a girl and boy of about the same ages, had lost their father during the same week. These four cousins became fast friends as their parents, a brother and sister, worked together to rear their children.
One of the favorite games for the four cousins was funeral. The typewritten story recounted how the four children took turns at being the preacher, the singer, the crier and the deceased. The best part was to be the deceased person. In her words, "I played dead the best." My Dad was the best preacher, Roy Lee the best singer and Lillis the best crier per my aunt's critical assessment. What a bittersweet memory to read at my aunt's grandchild's home during a party.
|My grandmother's burial. Box possibly contains doves.|
A tradition during this time, 1918.
amid the sorrow
flooded in sunshine the dove
rising from the grave
© Janice Adcock
Thanks to Chèvrefeuille for daily prompts on