If I've left flowers on a memorial, that doesn't mean that I know them or have more info. I could have been flowering random names, or I got there by following links from other memorials. I've flowered over 43,000 memorials, and I probably only knew a very small percentage of those people.
When my Dad passed away I became extremely interested in finding out more about the family. My Grandma said that those people are gone, let them stay gone. It wasn't until right before she passed away that she wanted to talk about it, but it was too late. I found Find A Grave when I wanted something to memorialize family and friends.
My cousin found out that in our Scovill line we come from three Mayflower passengers; John Howland, Elizabeth Tilley, and Richard Warren.
The majority of the memorials I made are family and some are very close family friends.
Discovering who your ancestors are is one thing, but reading about them even if its just an obituary tells you something about them as a person, not just another leaf in the tree. Seeing their final resting place is a type of closure for me.
I'm looking for any information on Scovill, Hill, Gear, Parlett, Lawton, Shields, Weilbacher, Frierdich, Murrah. Looking for photos of George William Scovill (b. Jul 12 1835 in Ohio - d. Nov 09 1884 in Kansas City, Kansas) or his wife Laura (nee - Geers) Scovill - Robbins - Eby (b. Dec 12 1845 in Kentucky - d. Mar 22 1916 in Kansas City, Jackson Co., Missouri).
Just to clarify, my mother does a lot of work on here with me since she knows the older family better than I do. If a memorial has many links, they are probably in my family.
If you add a picture for one of my memorials, please let me know so I can see it instead of stumbling on it later! Thanks!
I do transfer out of guidelines, so if the memorial isn't for one of my family members, chances are I'll transfer it to you if you ask, just let me know how your related! :)
**I've sent out a lot of edits lately. I didn't single anyone out or intentionally pick on anyone, I'm just looking through family names in various counties. If I can see things that can be put on the memorial to make it more complete, then I send an edit. I added death certificates to those people I'm not related to. If I transfer a memorial to you and you don't want it on there, I will be more than happy to remove it.**
I think this pretty much sums up how most of us feel about graving and looking for our ancestors.
By Walter Butler Palmer (1906)
Your tombstone stands among the rest
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist
you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spread out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.
THE RECORDING OF A CEMETERY
by Thelma Greene Reagan
Today we walked where others walked
On a lonely, windswept hill;
Today we talked where other cried
For Loved Ones whose lives are stilled.
Today our hearts were touched
By graves of tiny babies;
Snatched from the arms of loving kin,
In the heartbreak of the ages.
Today we saw where the grandparents lay
In the last sleep of their time;
Lying under the trees and clouds
Their beds kissed by the sun and wind.
Today we wondered about an unmarked spot;
Who lies beneath this hollowed ground?
Was it a babe, child, young or old?
No indication could be found.
Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay.
We had been here once before
On a day we'd all like to forget,
But will remember forever more.
Today we recorded for kith and kin
The graves of ancestors past;
To be preserved for generations hence,
A record we hope will last.
Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend,
For stones sometimes crumble to dust
And generations of folks yet to come
Will be grateful for your trust.
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