February 25, 1940—January 2, 1942.
I’m starting to write this about 1:30 in the afternoon, January 2, 2010. It was approximately this same time of the day, 68 years ago, that a short series of events began that led to the death of my younger sister Dixie. Although it is with special reverence I think of her on this date, there are few days in a year that I don’t dwell on her presence for at least a few moments.
I was but three and a half years old, and she hadn’t welcomed her second birthday yet, so memories are dim after all these many years, but fate stepped in and she left this earth. The photo shows she was a beautiful child, and deserved a longer stay before succumbing to the fate we all have in store, but it was not to be.
The photo was originally taken some time in 1941. It was black and white, taken with a Kodak Box Camera. Our parents had it colorized and turned into a much larger picture which always hung on the wall in a very prominent spot on our living room wall. It was surrounded by an oval gilded frame.
Our father died in 1975, and mother traded her home some time later to my brother Fred and his wife Susan for their mobile home which was in the same yard. Mother asked that the picture remain hanging in its accustomed spot. Fred stated from time to time, although he never knew her, her death being before his birth, it was his sister, and the rightful place for her remembrance was on that wall. Fred died in 2002, but the picture remained there after his death, and remains there still.
Dixie, I’ve always missed you.
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