¸.· ´¸.·*´¨❤¸.·*¨¨*•¨*•.¸¸¸.·*´¨❤
¸❤.·´ In Loving Memory
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
I never had the chance to know ,Ada, because she died long before I was ever born. I know very little about her. I know she loved birds which is something she must have instilled in my mother because for as long as I can remember she's always had at least one bird. My mother told me that Ada raised canaries. I know very little else about Ada. I have read letters she's written and ,as a teenager, I even made a recipe for baked Alaska from newspaper and magazine clippings she had saved decades before I ever existed. Her old cookbook that is falling apart and is stuffed with recipes and a couple of handwritten letters yellowed with age, has been my only tangible physical connection to her. It's funny how something as insignifigant as a cookbook with a few clippings and letters can turn out to be such a meaningful window into a loved one's life and possibly the only one left open through which a descendant can peer through, in hopes of becoming somewhat acquainted with an ancestor. I wonder what else Ada would have stuffed into her cookbook if she had known that it's contents would be the only way her great grandaughter would know about her.
One thing that I do know about my great grandmother , is that, during her lifetime, she came to know a lot about heartbreak. The winter of 1924 was her teacher. Within a span of 7 agonizing weeks, the reaper came, stealing away 3 of her beloved sons. January 5, 1924 marked the first tragedy, with the death of her 6 month old baby boy, Loyde. Almost five weeks later, On February 8, death returned and took her 7 year old son, Leroy. Eleven days after Leroy's death, her 3 year old son, Howard, died. He was only 3 weeks shy of his 4th birthday.
I can't even begin to imagine the immense pain and sorrow she suffered.
Although I don't know much about, Ada, I do know that she must have been a strong woman.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
The Reaper And The Flowers
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again,"
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"My Lord has need of these floweretsgay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."
"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
¸❤.·´ In Loving Memory
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
I never had the chance to know ,Ada, because she died long before I was ever born. I know very little about her. I know she loved birds which is something she must have instilled in my mother because for as long as I can remember she's always had at least one bird. My mother told me that Ada raised canaries. I know very little else about Ada. I have read letters she's written and ,as a teenager, I even made a recipe for baked Alaska from newspaper and magazine clippings she had saved decades before I ever existed. Her old cookbook that is falling apart and is stuffed with recipes and a couple of handwritten letters yellowed with age, has been my only tangible physical connection to her. It's funny how something as insignifigant as a cookbook with a few clippings and letters can turn out to be such a meaningful window into a loved one's life and possibly the only one left open through which a descendant can peer through, in hopes of becoming somewhat acquainted with an ancestor. I wonder what else Ada would have stuffed into her cookbook if she had known that it's contents would be the only way her great grandaughter would know about her.
One thing that I do know about my great grandmother , is that, during her lifetime, she came to know a lot about heartbreak. The winter of 1924 was her teacher. Within a span of 7 agonizing weeks, the reaper came, stealing away 3 of her beloved sons. January 5, 1924 marked the first tragedy, with the death of her 6 month old baby boy, Loyde. Almost five weeks later, On February 8, death returned and took her 7 year old son, Leroy. Eleven days after Leroy's death, her 3 year old son, Howard, died. He was only 3 weeks shy of his 4th birthday.
I can't even begin to imagine the immense pain and sorrow she suffered.
Although I don't know much about, Ada, I do know that she must have been a strong woman.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
The Reaper And The Flowers
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again,"
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"My Lord has need of these floweretsgay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."
"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
¸.· ´¸.·*´¨❤¸.·*¨¨*•¨*•.¸¸¸.·*´¨❤
¸❤.·´ In Loving Memory
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
I never had the chance to know ,Ada, because she died long before I was ever born. I know very little about her. I know she loved birds which is something she must have instilled in my mother because for as long as I can remember she's always had at least one bird. My mother told me that Ada raised canaries. I know very little else about Ada. I have read letters she's written and ,as a teenager, I even made a recipe for baked Alaska from newspaper and magazine clippings she had saved decades before I ever existed. Her old cookbook that is falling apart and is stuffed with recipes and a couple of handwritten letters yellowed with age, has been my only tangible physical connection to her. It's funny how something as insignifigant as a cookbook with a few clippings and letters can turn out to be such a meaningful window into a loved one's life and possibly the only one left open through which a descendant can peer through, in hopes of becoming somewhat acquainted with an ancestor. I wonder what else Ada would have stuffed into her cookbook if she had known that it's contents would be the only way her great grandaughter would know about her.
One thing that I do know about my great grandmother , is that, during her lifetime, she came to know a lot about heartbreak. The winter of 1924 was her teacher. Within a span of 7 agonizing weeks, the reaper came, stealing away 3 of her beloved sons. January 5, 1924 marked the first tragedy, with the death of her 6 month old baby boy, Loyde. Almost five weeks later, On February 8, death returned and took her 7 year old son, Leroy. Eleven days after Leroy's death, her 3 year old son, Howard, died. He was only 3 weeks shy of his 4th birthday.
I can't even begin to imagine the immense pain and sorrow she suffered.
Although I don't know much about, Ada, I do know that she must have been a strong woman.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
The Reaper And The Flowers
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again,"
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"My Lord has need of these floweretsgay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."
"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
¸❤.·´ In Loving Memory
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
I never had the chance to know ,Ada, because she died long before I was ever born. I know very little about her. I know she loved birds which is something she must have instilled in my mother because for as long as I can remember she's always had at least one bird. My mother told me that Ada raised canaries. I know very little else about Ada. I have read letters she's written and ,as a teenager, I even made a recipe for baked Alaska from newspaper and magazine clippings she had saved decades before I ever existed. Her old cookbook that is falling apart and is stuffed with recipes and a couple of handwritten letters yellowed with age, has been my only tangible physical connection to her. It's funny how something as insignifigant as a cookbook with a few clippings and letters can turn out to be such a meaningful window into a loved one's life and possibly the only one left open through which a descendant can peer through, in hopes of becoming somewhat acquainted with an ancestor. I wonder what else Ada would have stuffed into her cookbook if she had known that it's contents would be the only way her great grandaughter would know about her.
One thing that I do know about my great grandmother , is that, during her lifetime, she came to know a lot about heartbreak. The winter of 1924 was her teacher. Within a span of 7 agonizing weeks, the reaper came, stealing away 3 of her beloved sons. January 5, 1924 marked the first tragedy, with the death of her 6 month old baby boy, Loyde. Almost five weeks later, On February 8, death returned and took her 7 year old son, Leroy. Eleven days after Leroy's death, her 3 year old son, Howard, died. He was only 3 weeks shy of his 4th birthday.
I can't even begin to imagine the immense pain and sorrow she suffered.
Although I don't know much about, Ada, I do know that she must have been a strong woman.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
The Reaper And The Flowers
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
"Shall I have naught that is fair?" Saith he;
"Having naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again,"
He gazed at the flowers with tearful eye,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
"My Lord has need of these floweretsgay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child."
"They shall all bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
And the mother gave, in tears and pain,
The flowers she most did love:
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
❤ •*¨*•.¸¸❤❤¸.•*¨*• ❤
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