OH DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?

On a cold, snowy and wintery day in the month of January 1928, with my Grandmother attending as midwife, I arrived in this old world – breech birth. It is questionable as to whether or not I ever did get turned around! Six years later she also helped my Mother deliver a beautiful baby daughter – my sister Adalee! I was six years old, going on seven of course, and had just finished the first grade.

Adalee was the prettiest baby I have ever seen. She had the deepest blue eyes and her hair was a chestnut brown with a touch of red, a deep dark mahogany. Not long after her birth we began to notice that she did not respond like most babies her age. We knew she could hear from her smiles and response to our voices but it was difficult to tell whether or not she could see. Sometimes she would follow things with her eyes and at other times she we got no response whatsoever. She was never able to crawl or walk. She could not even turn over in her crib. To this day I honestly do not know what was wrong with her. My mother took her down state one time and saw some specialist. When she returned she told us Adalee was retarded and that she would never be any better.

Before Adalee was born, I slept in the same room as my Mother and Father. Almost every night I would get up and climb into bed between them, curl up and sleep like a baby. That was the safest and warmest place in the whole wide world! Adalee really upset my apple cart in more ways than one. Right off, she took my bed and I was sent packing upstairs where I was forced to sleep with my brother. I never got to sleep with Mom and Dad again.

When I was not in school it became my job to take care of Adalee. At first it was almost an impossible task for a six year old but it got easier as the months and years passed. I loved Adalee and yet I despised her. I hated myself for feeling the way I did.

Adalee died in 1938. My mother found her one morning curled up in her bed. She had apparently drifted off while she slept. I was ten years old and I didn’t know whether to cry my eyes out or shout for joy. I found the answer the day we buried her.

Adalee was the first dead person I had ever felt. It was a strange and eerie feeling. I really don’t know why I felt that I must physically touch her after she died. I guess it was my way of saying goodbye. I’m glad I did!

After the funeral services were over and we were walking away from the cemetery, located high upon this hill, I took off running toward home. I took a near cut down through a patch of thick trees. Suddenly, I just stopped and I actually shouted for joy! It was the most jubilant experience of my life! As I was running, I kept thinking of a saying I had heard somewhere, sometime "Oh death, where is thy sting?" I had realized, at a very young age, that death is merely a passageway to a wondrous and glorious adventure. It was especially so for my beloved sister and I could not help my joyous outburst!

In death we sleep and then to wake
Upon some distant shore.
To tarry there, to wait and share
With those who care
And then go on,
Forevermore!