Yesterday,
February 23, 2015 would have been my little brother’s 67th birthday.
He never made it that far. In fact, he died in 1950 just past the age of two
years and two months.
James
Edwin Shepheard, named for his two grandfathers, was born on February 23rd,
1948 and passed away on May 15th, 1950. The clinical cause of death
was from a pulmonary infarction due to Eisenminger’s Syndrome, a congenital
heart defect. We were just told he had a hole in his heart, which is true.
We
don’t know if surgery could have saved Jimmy. In any case the first open heart
surgery to correct such defects was not accomplished until 1952. Surgeries
involving a heart-lung machine were not done until much later.
I
am reminded of Jimmy often, particularly around my own birthday and those of my
sisters, and I often wonder how our lives might have been different if he had
survived. I also think about him when I come across the deaths of other infants
and children of my ancestors’ families. And, to my surprise, there have been
many!
I
only have snippets of memories of him, playing quietly with him in the back
yard or on the living room floor. My two older sisters remember Jimmy as “a
little angel who came to brighten our family . . . a happy, sweet tempered
little boy . . . and so cute.” He never learned to walk – he was not strong
enough – but he did talk and loved to laugh. His favorite game with our oldest
sister was the nursery rhyme, “One two, buckle
my shoe.
. .” When they got to ten he would laugh and shout out, “Big Fot Hen!” in his
growly little voice.
Some
of the things that go through your mind as a surviving sibling are: If he had
not been ill and we had grown up together, would we have shared similar
interests? Would we have played sports or had business interests together? Might
he have been my best man when I got married? There are so many scenarios that
can be imagined with stories like these.
My
youngest sister came along after Jimmy died. She likes to tell everyone that
she was the only one of us that was planned. Of course we disagree about that.
She has also commented that she might not be here if Jimmy had lived. I think she
would have, and that we would have been a family of five children. But her
initials would probably not have been J. E.
Psychologists
suggest there can be major conflicting emotions when siblings die, especially
at a very young age. Some individuals will be fearful or anxious; some may feel
guilt. Others may feel abandoned especially if there are no other brothers and
sisters to lean on. I think most children will experience a loss of innocence
or, at least, an unwanted welcome into the real world. In our family, we learned
that death is a part of life, that it is not to be feared nor dwelled upon but,
basically, that things often happen that are beyond our control. While we can
and will be sad that someone close was lost, we do have to move on.
Perhaps
because we were ourselves so young, my sisters and I did not fully appreciate the
seriousness of Jimmy’s illness or how his passing would affect any of us. It’s
only as we get older that we really understand death and the loss of a loved
one. The more years we have together the closer we become and therefore parting
with the person, and our interactions together, is so much harder. We cannot
know if Jimmy’s death had any lasting effect on us as siblings since our lives
unfolded in what we have come to believe was the way they were supposed to.
Perhaps there were some scars that accompanied the pleasant memories.
I
cannot imagine anything as devastating as a parent losing a child. In looking
back now, I believe that our parents were prepared for the eventuality and were
able to get on with what they had to do – raising their remaining three
children. Planning for their fifth was also part of the healing process. I
suspect they experienced enormous grief but hid it from us in order to protect
us and to allow us to get over the loss of our brother more easily.
In
decades and centuries past, childhood deaths were not uncommon. Normal
childhood diseases that we have seen almost eradicated often visited
communities. Without the protection of vaccines which we now take for granted, these
outbreaks resulted in the deaths of many children – and adults as well. Health
conditions that children were born with, many less serious than my brother’s
affliction, may have been untreatable, if they were even recognized.
In
assembling the history about my own ancestors, I discovered that, in every
generation, babies and young children were lost. I imagine that, in each case,
the parents and siblings of those children must have felt the same way we did,
with a great sense of loss. In later years, they may also have wondered how
their own lives might have been different if their brother or sister had lived.
Our
family histories often gloss over the premature deaths of people who never grew
up, married and had their own families. They were no less important members of
those families and their loss must have been felt deeply by parents, siblings
and others. We should try to incorporate what we know or find out about them
into any narrative as they were certainly part of the overall story.
I
will try to do so below, however briefly, for siblings of my direct ancestors going
back just four generations. The paucity of information about them shows I still
have much research to do.
·
Marion Elizabeth
Shepheard
(1919-1919) and Evelyn Ethel Shepheard
(1926-1926) – I know very little about these two sisters of my father. They
were infants when they died, perhaps even still-born.
·
Lois Ivy Miller (1896-1905) –
This little girl was born in Oklahoma over twenty years before my mother so she
never knew her older sister.
·
Andrew E.
McDaniel
(1868-1869) – My maternal grandmother’s brother was born and died in Lee County,
Virginia.
·
Florence M.
Thompson
(1892-1892) and Eveline Thompson
(1902-1902) – These were two of my paternal grandmother’s sisters. Both were
born and died in Mapleton, North Dakota.
·
Charlotte Ann
Shepheard
(1867-1869) – This sister of one of my great-grandfathers died of rubella,
complicated by pneumonia.
·
Mary Ann Pearson (1852-1854) and
Thomas Pearson (1854-1854) – These
siblings of one of my great-grandmothers both died in Australia. Mary Ann was
born in Warwickshire, England and moved with her parents to Australia in 1853.
Her death record says “Scald Mortification 11 days” which must have been a
tragic and heart-rending accident. Thomas was born in Australia and died of
pneumonia at the age of two months.
·
Harriet Keith (1851-1852), Martha Helen Keith (1853-1857) and infant Keith (1867-1867) –
·
A
great-grandmother lost three siblings, all of whom were born and died in
Jennings, Indiana.
·
Martha Anderson (1870-1870) –
This sister of another of my great-grandmothers was born and died in North
Dakota.
·
Infant Anderson (1821-1821), Gilbert Anderson (1840-1841) and Jane Anderson (1844-1844) – The
Campsie, Scotland birth record for the first child, sibling of one of my 2nd
great-grandfathers, has a note “This child is dead” indicating it was
still-born. No forename was recorded for this child and there is no indication
of its gender. Other siblings, Gilbert and Jane were born in Lanark County,
Ontario but did not survive infancy.
·
Jane Crispin
Carpenter
(1835-1836) – This was a sister of one of my 2nd great-grandmothers.
Her cause of death is unknown.
·
Samuel Davis (1840-1842) – This
brother of another 2nd great-grandmother was born and died in
Warwickshire, England.
·
Robert Emerson (1826-1826), Mary Emerson (1827-1829), George Emerson (1831-1831), William Emerson (1835-1835), Ann Emerson (1837-1837), George Emerson (1840-1840) and Phoebe Emerson (1843-1843) – Another of
my 2nd great-grandmothers lost seven siblings at very young ages,
the first three in Leiscestershire, England, before the family immigrated to
Canada, another while crossing the Atlantic and two in Thorold, Ontario, where
they were born.
There
may have been more children lost to these and other direct-line families
however I do not yet have complete information for all the family members to be
able to confirm whether other names should be added to the list.
My
maternal grand-father was a twin. His brother was still-born. I think he also
always wondered what life might have been like had his brother lived,
especially so since they were born on the same day. Edwin Miller was a
sensitive and caring man who, on the day of his 83rd birthday wrote
the following poem. It relates a sentiment that I think all of us feel who have
lost a brother or sister at a very young age.
My Birthday – February 17th, 1870
In a Kansas
shanty – in a form more like a toy,
Eighty three
years ago today, was born a baby boy.
A Kansas
blizzard raged without; within, a tiny wail
Came from the
throat of that little form so frail.
You may believe
it or may not; that feeble little cry
Came from that
babe, that little babe – the babe that once was I,
At the same time
there lay beside me on that bed
A normal child
in every way except that child was dead.
And so the
little weakling grew up to be a man,
They laid the
strong beneath the sod as only parents can.
It seemed to me
my greatest loss as I grew up alone
Was my twin baby
brother whom I have never known.
Edwin
died just seven months after writing this remembrance poem.
I
never really knew my brother but I do still miss him. Happy Birthday Jimmy!
Wish you were here.
Wayne
Shepheard is a volunteer with the Online Parish Clerk program in
England, handling four parishes in Devon, England. He has
published a number of articles about various aspects of genealogy and is a past
Editor of Chinook, the quarterly journal
of the Alberta Family Histories Society. Wayne also provides genealogical
consulting services through his business, Family History Facilitated.
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