My Sister's Grave

I often think of my sister, Katherine Elizabeth Baldwin. I guess that's a little strange because I never met her. She was born prematurely around 1950, and the methods for saving preemies that saved my grandson, Niko, were not available back then.

She was buried in St. John's cemetary in Warrington, Florida, in an unmarked grave, because my parents could not afford a headstone at that time.

I remember visiting the grave a few times with my parents. At first it was easy to find the small, child-sized mound of dirt which marked the spot where she was buried. With time, we had to search the area where we knew the grave to be to find vestiges of her resting place.

Eventually, nature took care of that and her grave could no longer be found.

I have often wondered what it would have meant to have a younger sister.

Being the only boy between two girls might have been a bother, but having someone else to take the heat of being the youngest kid in the family might have had some positive effect. On the other hand, middle kids often feel neglected.

Who's to say.

Anyway, at the age of 65, I miss this sister I never knew who would be about 60 years old herself. It would have been fun to watch her grow up and, at least for a while, be the older brother.

Oh well. Life does not always answer our desires.

However, if she could not live her own life and make her own friends, at least perhaps a few people might read this and know she passed this way. I'm sure she would have been a good sister.