Didn't write anything new yesterday morning. I, instead, reposted a blog I had written about five years ago. That was because the subject of that blog was once again on my mind. That subject was my great grand aunt Laura Rose Terry. I wonder why this one ancestor should remain in my thoughts for so long and appear so often? Laura Rose passed away when she sixteen years and five months old. I have one photo of her, and she appears to be with child. I have no further information about her or any child she may have had. Yet she persists.
I am not one to believe in signs, premonitions or voices from the other side. I do believe the past resides within all of us. I have a whole theory on the journey of the soul. I've written about that on several occasions. I believe our souls continue but shared by many, in fragments, for safe keeping. After all, wisdom dictates that you don't put all your eggs in one basket. I wonder if a portion of Laura Rose has found a home in me. It doesn't seem likely though. Being an older sister to my great grandmother, and having passed at such a young age, combined with the fact that great grandmother Lucy passed when I was just three, the connection is tenuous at best. She had five siblings seems like they and their progeny would share Laura Rose and she would feel at home with them.
Then I think but what if there had a been a child. It wasn't an uncommon thing for women to die during childbirth in 1891, nor for the babies to not survive either. I don't believe there was much in the way of care for preemies in those days. That child had a soul as well as Laura Rose herself. That soul would have to be shared. A portion of that soul may be what resides within me. Is it a cry to be heard, to be recognized? In 1891 one did not discuss such things as infant mortality. Often these children were quietly buried and never spoken of again. As I mentioned Laura Rose appears to be with child, yet I have found no record of a marriage. Indeed, the newspaper in her obituary states her name as Laura Rose Terry, her birth name. No mention of a husband. Such a situation in 1891 would surely have raised eyebrows! The unborn child would surely be kept quiet following the tragic loss of Laura Rose. One does not speak ill of the dead. Our transgressions are buried with us, well they used to be anyway.
It's been one hundred and thirty-one years since the death of Laura Rose. Really not that long ago when taken in context. I will hopefully reach the seventy year mark this year, in about seven months. Will anyone think of me one hundred thirty years from now? Seems unlikely I would warrant that immortality. More likely to just be another name in the family tree, more like a twig than a branch. We are fortunate to be living in these times though as far as being recorded that is. Our lives are documented since birth, official documents recorded and preserved. What the old folks called your bona-fides. Like a lot of legal terms, it comes from Latin. Bona-fides in Latin means good faith. You are telling something to another in good faith, but proof is required. That's where certificates, affidavits and testimony come into play. Documentation.
The death of Laura Rose was surely documented. I wish I could examine that document today. I did request it from the State archives in the past. It was explained that I would have to show documentation that I was a direct descendant of Laura Rose. Apparently, her being my great grand Aunt would not be enough, even if I could produce all the documents to show that. Death certificates are closely guarded secrets in New York State. So are marriage licenses. Well, if there had been Facebook in 1891, I could have known all the details. That stuff never goes away. Guess it is progress.
Laura Rose Terry
1877-1891
Doesn't she appear pregnant? Notice where her hand rests. All pregnant women put their hands on their bellies. It's a rule or something.
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