That’s a loaded question. I’m fascinated by the architecture of the stones, how symbols and art pass in and out of fashion, and by how loved ones decide to memorialize the deceased. But what absolutely intrigues me is gleaned from gender and dates. The sheer number of deaths of females prior to the early-mid 20th century breaks my heart, especially when they are buried with their infants. I know through literature and history classes that women died in childbirth; I understand because of science classes, the myriad reasons this occurred; but it’s seeing the graves of young women that make it all the more shocking. That said, I did stumble, quite literally, over a stone that took this to a new level.
A dirty, moss-covered stone lay flush with the ground. This stone was longer than most, still the longest I’ve seen. Brushing the moss aside, carefully pouring water over the engravings to bring the information forth, I saw why: a woman was buried with her daughter and they were remembered on the same stone. Not uncommon. But the stone was…odd. Long, rectangular, on the ground, not upright, and outside of any family plot.
I read the left-hand portion of the stone: Ruth Fuqua Elam July 30, 1892-Sept. 7, 1918. She was only 26 when she died. Too young. I continue to the right: Infant Daughter of John Brooms and Ruth Fuqua Elam Died 1916. How horrible, she lost a child. As I stood there imagining how this young woman may have coped with her grief, wondering what killed her just two short years later—flu or a broken heart—two things dawned on me: the infant is not named and there is no birth date. That’s odd. Then it hit me: Infant Daughter of John Brooms…there are NO Brooms in this cemetery! And Ruth, while a Fuqua and an Elam, is not buried with either family, of which there are a plethora here. Damn! Was Fuqua her middle name or her maiden name? Did she have an affair or just sex out of wedlock? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that some relative paid money to call them out for having an illegitimate child…they paid money to call out baby-daddy for all eternity! And poor Ruth and her unnamed daughter lie just beyond the reaches of either family plot, exiled in death as I imagine they were in life.
This, my friends, is a story waiting to be told. There is so much inferred with the placement of this stone, with the dates shared, with the information withheld. For all eternity, Ruth and her infant daughter will lay here on their own with baby-daddy called out in name only. This is how her family chose to mark her memory. To date, this is the most interesting grave I’ve found.