At Home


In the early 1970's I moved my young family into an old Victorian house in the city. The rooms were so large I could have put all of my furniture in two rooms.
My father suggested that I start going to auctions and estate sales. Before long, I had a house full of wonderful old furniture, but I couldn't stop! Every week my dad would call me with a list of upcoming auctions, in the farming community where I grew up.
Over the years I collected many things but my collection of old photographs were very dear to me. Most of the photographs were of beautiful Victorian women dressed in high necked crisp white blouses and long bustled skirts. I often looked at the photographs wondering, for what special occasion the photograph was taken...
My favorite photograph is of a girl who is about 18 years old. The most beautiful young woman you can imagine. Piercing dark eyes, thick dark curly hair, and creamy white skin.
In 1980, we bought an old farm house in the community where I grew up. While decorating the old house, I decided to display some of the old photographs. The first photograph I displayed was of the young girl, I hung the frame with velvet ribbon, in true Victorian style.
This past summer an elderly man knocked on my door, he introduced himself and told me he was the great grandson of the family that had lived here on the farm from 1850 until 1957.
He said he had spent many summer vacations on the farm and just wanted to look around the old place. I enjoyed spending the afternoon with him, looking at the farm through his window into the past.
When we were finished with the tour of the barns and the old slave house, I invited him in for coffee.
As we sat talking he noticed the picture of the young girl.
Much to my surprise, he asked, "Where did you get the picture of great aunt Sarah?"
"Aunt Sarah?" I replied. "I bought that picture at an auction 10 or 12 years ago. I have no idea who she is."
The old man said, "That's aunt Sarah all right. I have a photograph of her and I'm sure that's her."
He went on to tell me that Sarah had died of cholera in 1855 at the age of 18 and "I think she died right here at home."
The old man sent me his aunt Sarah's obituary and the photograph he had of her.
Amazingly it was the same girl, and according to her obituary, she died on a sofa in the living room, where her picture hangs today, with her loving family gathered around.
As I read her obituary I could only imagine the pain of losing this beautiful child. "Dear, sweet Sarah, was greatly loved and deeply mourned by all who knew her." How did Sarah get home?
I have no idea. I've placed her obituary in the frame with her photograph in hopes that she will not be forgotten.

This story was written by Shirley Greer. Thank you for letting me put this on my webpage.