Go Tell Them the Story of the Brave Hero

Today I cried on live. I never do that. I hate that! 🤣

But you would have done it too if your cousin sent you documents that are more than 100 years old, and they made it despite our postal service being in shambles.

My grandmother was orphaned by age 16. Two years later, she was married and had my father and while he never knew his grandparents, he was super close with his aunts, uncles, and first cousins. Since he died, I’ve now become closer to this side of the family.

I sobbed when I saw homework that my great aunt, Clarence, wrote. She died from tuberculosis at age 15. She would be 115 if she were alive today. No one outside of her siblings ever met her. She was on the Dawes Roll, and a student at Western University in Kansas City when she died.

There are newspaper clippings, report cards, even the graduation program from when my other great aunt, Edna, graduated college at Western almost 100 years ago.

I needed to see all this school stuff after virtual learning the past week. If they made it through, so will we. 😎

“Go tell them the story of the brave hero” is what Aunt Clarence wrote. I will. ❤️

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