A good friend died today and I'm thinking of the deaths I have known or in this case, just heard of. Our eldest brother died when he was 4 year's old and up in Mum and Dad's wardrobe was a chocolate box with cards and Herald death notices and photos of him. As the younger children got old enough somehow I felt it my duty to sneak them into Mum and Dad's room, climb up on a chair to reach up into the wardrobe and show them the story of their oldest brother. I cant truly remember if my older sister also climbed up and told the stories, but I remember I felt it was my serious duty to teach the younger ones about 'our saint in heaven!' as was the language of the times. When Mum was dying she was afraid we would forget him although we promised we couldn't possibly forget. When my younger sister died after Mum, we were able to say 'there were 10 of us but now 2 have died' so NEITHER of them will be forgotten. Now we have TWO saints in heaven!
Marie: And yet another story!
It seems to be a trait of the elderly to tell stories and often repeat the same stories. As our family has a major Reunion in February 2015 I will tell a family story each day and NOT repeat it for 100 days. I will use christian names from our earlier generations as pseudonyms.