The Mystery that Started It All (part 2)

Bonnie Rose Bryant, 9/30/46 - 7/28/47

Note:  This is a continuation from a previous post.  For part 1, click here.

For most of my life, I lived right next door to my paternal grandparents. My parents bought the house I grew up in when my mom was pregnant with my sister and I was barely five years old. When I was in elementary school, I would walk the block and a half home from school straight to my grandparents' house to stay. Even when I started middle school and became older and more trustworthy, I would first check in with Grandma (and get a snack, because, well ... she was my sweet southern Grandma and that's what sweet southern grandmas do!) before going next door to my house to do homework and chores until my parents got home from work.  But I almost always stopped in at Grandma's house first.

I saw her nearly every day of my life.  And now  - now that she was gone, I learned that she had an entire other life before me, my sister, my dad, my Aunt Cynthia, and my Granddad.  Oh, what I would give to have been able to ask her about it while she was alive!  Of course, my Granddad knew about my grandmother's previous marriage and child.  But my dad didn't know of his older half-sister's existence until well into his adulthood - sometime after he and my mom were married.  My Aunt Cynthia found out from a cousin who mentioned it one day, assuming that Cynthia already knew.  When Cynthia went back and asked her mother about it, Grandma confirmed that yes, she did have an older sister that had died as a baby.  But I don't think she got much more information than that.  I'm pretty sure my Granddad didn't even know a whole lot about what had happened.  My poor Grandma just couldn't bear to talk about that chapter of her life - it was much too painful, even more so than the intense physical pain that she endured on a daily basis.  On the rare occasion that the subject was ever broached, her response was, "We don't talk about that."  So they didn't.

You know that verse in the Bible at the end of the Christmas story?  "But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart." (Luke 2:19)  That is exactly how I picture my Grandma, keeping all of these things - the agony and hopelessness that she had endured while watching her baby suffer from an illness that eventually took her life, the pain and heartache of being abandoned and left alone as a very young wife and mother - all of these things she kept in her heart and pondered them, alone, sharing her thoughts with no one.

This, folks, is the mystery that started it all.  I wanted to know more.  Who was this baby?  What was her name?  How old was she?  What had caused her to die?  When was she born?  When did she die?  Who was this jerk that had run off and left my poor Grandma with a sick baby?  Or was that even what had happened?  What was his name?  How did they meet?  My curiosity about this chapter of my Grandma Eva's life was the catalyst that launched me into my obsession with passion for genealogy.  I wanted to know the whole story.  I would give anything in the world to be able to sit down with my Grandma Eva just one more time, for so many reasons.  But this is probably the first thing I would ask her about.

If you have looked at the photo at the top of this post, then you know that I have discovered the answers to some of those questions.  But many of them still remain.

From what I gathered from my initial interrogation of my parents, they thought the baby's name was Bonnie and that she was buried somewhere in Elberton, Georgia.  Several years passed before I really had the opportunity to put any time into gathering more information (I did have to finish college, after all), but I eventually joined Ancestry.com and started digging.  And came up with...nothing.

Sigh.  Well, I suppose that's only fair.  I mean, what exactly did I have to go on, anyway?  Her name might have been Bonnie, I had no idea what her last name was, she was born and died sometime prior to December 1949 when my grandparents were married, she was buried somewhere in Elberton, and her mother's maiden name was Eva Alma Parham.  But even a search for a birth record with my Grandma's name on it came up empty.  Apparently Elbert County, Georgia didn't have their records online yet (and still don't).

So...I waited.  I continued my genealogy quest through the other branches of my family tree, but occasionally I would go back and run a few searches hoping...just maybe I would find something this time.  But alas, still nothing.

Everett Frank Powell and Melanie Elisha Powell

And then... in February 2014, we lost my Granddaddy.  His health had been failing, and dementia had been slowly taking him away from us for years before his physical death.  He lived in the home that he had shared with my Grandma for so many years, next door to my parents, until we were afraid that he was going to seriously harm himself or burn down the house - or both.  So about a year before his death, my family moved him into a nursing facility in Easley, South Carolina where he could receive full-time care and supervision.  While walking around the nursing home on the afternoon of Friday, February 21, he fell and broke his hip.  He was immediately transported to the hospital, where he was treated for pain until the doctors made the decision as to what treatment plan to pursue.  On the morning of February 22, the doctors performed surgery for the broken hip, which they said he came through with flying colors.  That is, right up until he got to recovery.

While my grandfather was in the recovery room after his surgery, he suddenly aspirated and choked, causing him to go into afib - atrial fibrillation, which is an irregular heart rhythm.  The doctors were able to correct the rhythm, but he was put on a ventilator and a feeding tube was inserted - basically, he was on life support.  If my memory is correct, I believe that he was kept in a medically-induced coma.  After a couple of days, he appeared to be doing better, and the ventilator was removed on Tuesday, February 25.

On Wednesday morning, February 26, 2014, I was at my job in Spartanburg County when I received a call from my fiancée, Mathew.  My Granddaddy had suddenly "thrown" a blood clot and had completely stopped breathing.  He was gone.  Mathew told me that he was coming to pick me up from work to take me to be with my family at the hospital.  Then a few minutes later, I got a call from my mom - amazingly, they had found a very faint pulse and been able to revive my Granddaddy, but he wouldn't last long.  When Mathew arrived to get me, we went straight to the hospital, traveling faster than we probably should have been.  The rest of my family - my mom and dad, my sister and brother-in-law and their two boys, and my Aunt Cynthia - were already there in the waiting room.  Two of the pastors from our church were also there and were in the room with my grandfather.  I was the last family member to arrive - they had waited for me to get there before turning off the life support.  I went back to the recovery room to see my Granddaddy.  After a few minutes and a prayer by one of the pastors, the doctors turned off the machines that were keeping him alive.  This time, I got the chance to say goodbye.  I was holding his hand when he took his last breath.

Granddaddy with me and my newborn sister

In the months after my grandfather's passing, my parents undertook the task of cleaning out the house that my grandparents had shared.  One particular item that had always been a bit of a mystery to me was my Grandma's large "Cedar Chest." It was always called the Cedar Chest, these two words always being said together as if they were the item's proper name.  I knew that the Cedar Chest contained unimaginable treasures.  As a kid, I had a weird obsession with John F. Kennedy (and still do, really).  Upon request, my Grandma would periodically pull out and show me the copies of the Life Magazines and The Greenville News from November 23, 1963 that she had safely stored away - the large headline read "JFK IS ASSASSINATED."  I would pore over them until she safely stored them away again in her magical Cedar Chest.  But I was never allowed to look in or go through the Cedar Chest by myself.  Only Grandma could access the special treasures that it contained.

So I got very excited one afternoon when my parents called me up after going through some items at my grandparents' house.

"Melanie, you may want to come over here and take a look at these things.  We found some documents in your Grandma's Cedar Chest that you are going to want to see."

To be continued...

For part 3, click here.