May 9 1925…A baby boy, listed as “Stillborn McKnight” was born that day by my most beloved grandmother, but was not alive. I have been searching for this record for a number of years. I found it today, Independence Day.
My grandmother was 22 at the time, and already had my Uncle George, then 3 years old. Her heartache is unimaginable. It was 8 days before her 23rd birthday, and I imagine her birthday each year was a constant reminder of this little soul she never got to know.
Why does our heart break for someone we never knew? Is it possible to feel the sadness of someone who does not exist? Is the energy of their existence still swirling around in us?
What was she going to name him? Where is he buried? No answers.
I do not think my father (born in 1932) would like to see this. Or maybe, I don’t want to see him to see this. I prefer to keep him unemotional. I am comfortable that way.
And so, I dedicate this day to the little soul whose life was unlived on “the outside”.