It happened a long, long time ago, about three years before the onset of the so called, 'Great Depression.' I was only eight years of age; my sister was six and my brother was only four. On this particular Sunday at noon we sat down to the table at dinner as we always did. It was a Sunday like so many others. We always had dinner together after attending the morning church service at Robert Avenue Methodist.We were all conversing as families did at that time. After finishing dinner our mother said to our father, 'Bob I don't feel well and would like to go to bed for a little while.' So, they retired to their bedroom in the front of the house. Us three children were told to play in the back room and try to be quiet.But we were boisterous and full of life and kept making noise. Several times our father came back and asked us to be a little quieter. I began to notice how concerned he looked. From what I could hear he kept trying to get the doctor but he didn't come and he didn't come.Finally along about dusk there was a knock at the door and the doctor hurried in. He was in the front room for the longest time and as dark began to fall there was a bustle and we heard his footsteps as he left and the front door closed behind him.Our father then came into the room. I have never seen anyone with such an ashen face as he did. He then told us, 'I'm sorry but your mother is gone.' It took a moment or two for me to grasp what he was telling us. Then he took us into the front room where our mother lay. She was so pale and oh so still. My heart sank like a stone.There were two small mounds under the blanket at the foot of the bed. Our father told us they were the bodies of twins that had just been born and had just died also. All of a sudden all the joy in my life went out and my childhood ended. My beloved mother was gone and nothing would ever bring her back. There was no sleep in that household the rest of the night as friends and family members came by to express their condo
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