Bubbaspb - 5/7/2018 00:09

Last week I talked to an older gentleman in the neighborhood. Someone that I've always known his name but have never met as an adult. He said how much he appreciated seeing the headstone for my children as he sees it frequently when he drives by. I have never really thought about how a memorial such as this effects others.

He continued talking about a brother of his that died at a very young age and how there was never a stone to mark his burial plot. After seeing ours he decided to purchase one for his brother that he had never known. Things were different back then he explained.

He then said that he had an uncle that was stillborn and said there still was not a stone for him....but that there will be. We talked about how much things have changed as far as the grieving process. I told him about my facilitating at The Healing Place among other things.

Yesterday as I was planting corn along a cemetery, I noticed a headstone leaned up against a tree. It was a very large stone that must have been burried in some undergrowth and found during some clean up. I was intrigued and stopped to go and look. It was from the 1800's with a lot of German looking words on it.

I walked around a bit knowing there was something there that I needed to see....there it was....a small stone " Martha Reincke". A name that means nothing to me. No other stones nearby with that last name. But the date....the date hit me. 1901 / 1903. This was a child. Two years old. No idea who she was or how she died.

I started to wonder about the parents back then. How they possibly farmed this same land. How they may have been moving through looking for work. How had a two year old died? Some kind of accident....an illness. How did the parents grieve her loss. Did one parent blame the other. Did they stay together after the loss or did it tear them apart as it does so many. How did the dad deal with losing his baby girl. Was he ever able to talk about her. Did he drink himself numb. Perhaps his faith was strong enough that he made it through.

The tears hit me again this morning as I thought about my little two year old all tucked in his bed. How he brings Sharlyn Fellenz and I so much joy. How he is so full of life. The fact that this little girl made a difference in my life today.....115 years after her death...made me stop to think. I needed to do something. So I looked around for a flower...no luck. Perhaps a small toy in my truck....nothing. As I drove past Dad's horsebarn I knew there must be something in Koty's memorial garden. This daddy picked up a trinket and I am guessing that Martha would have been chasing butterflies a hundred and fifteen years ago in the bright sunshine on the banks Iron Creek.