Joe's Coat

 

What a treat!  All of my cousins and siblings remember spending the night at Grandma’s house.  I remember one special night with her, it was after she had fallen ill, and she had stories to tell while she still could.  I felt very lucky to be the one she shared one particular story with.  She started talking about my long-gone grandfather, his courtship and their early days of marriage, then went on to talk about her childhood.  She was the third youngest of nine children, born in 1893. While still quite young there was an epidemic, perhaps diphtheria, the disease entered the home, a notice was posted on the door that the family was quarantined and no one could enter.  They could not leave either. I don’t know if others in the family were affected, but Grandma’s three year old brother was very, very sick. When he died,  poor baby Joe was wrapped in his blankets and placed on the porch for the death wagon to pick up.  The family was not allowed to attend the burial  His belongings were to be burned, and Grandma never knew where her brother  was buried.  When they cleared out the bedroom to burn his clothes and belongings, there was nothing left to remember him by.  Then Grandma said with a smile “But I cut out a small piece from the pocket of his coat.”   When settling her affairs she sent her sons on an errand to find the grave and put a marker on it, but they couldn’t find any record of him, so Grandma ordered a new marker for her brother Eli, who also died young and put both names on it.  She was very upset that Joe’s grave could not be found.  I can still hear the pain in her voice when she said “I did have a brother Joe but no one believes me”  She couldn’t find the piece of coat and didn’t have the strength to search for it.  She sighed and said “I will see him soon in heaven anyway,”  She passed away in June 1972.

Sometime after her death I was sorting some old tin boxes from Grandma’s closet. A few trinkets, some Army insignia from her sons, a red stone ring, an envelope of small blonde braids with my mom’s name on it, and a tattered piece of cloth with a piece of paper pinned to it.   It said “Joe’s Coat.”

In 2022 as I was researching the microfilm records of the parish she grew up in, I made a discovery. I found Joe’s burial record. “ See Grandma,  I didn’t forget him, and I continued the search for you.  I will never forget him, and I will never forget you either.” 

Rest in Peace, Joseph Felix Rivard 1897-1899.