This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.
Why didn’t you tell me Ma? Were you ashamed?
I’m ninety-two and I’m sitting here looking at your grave trying my best to understand what was going through your head. It must have been hard on you.
My granddaughter found out about him. One of those computer programs that help you find your relatives. It took her years to tell me. She showed me a copy of the birth certificate. George Leon Jeffers was what you named him. Looks like he died when he was one day old.
I sure wish I had known I had a brother Ma.
Oh Danny Boy! 
Was it shame? Perhaps the poor woman was too grief-stricken to talk about her dead baby.
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That’s what I think.
DJ
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I doubt she was ashamed, probably too hard to speak of.
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I’m sure it was a combination of both. She carried that black cloud for a long time.
DJ
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A tale within a tale. Loved this.
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Know that feeling all too well. Great write.
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Thanks for commenting and the understanding of this issue. Some things our family never discussed until confronted.
DJ
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Hard times that ~ for the mother, the child … Who knows what was happening, what could have happened, what shouldn’t have happened. Well told
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Well said. Thanks for stopping by again.
DJ
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So much more common… I have a cousin who died in cancer, and I remember his siblings always existed in the shadow of him… so maybe not telling is better.
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How very sad.
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Something’s are just to hard to talk about, as they stir memories.
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Some things are best left alone.
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So true!
DJ
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Maybe she was ashamed, and maybe it hurt too much to speak about it.
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A little of both!
DJ
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Biology is destiny?
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Perhaps in this case. Thanks for commenting.
DJ
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