ADELINE by Nancy Schave [email protected]

I dedicate this story to "leave no stone unturned . . ."

I was fortunate to be able to travel on business to an eastern state, and tacked on a week of personal time to visit distant relatives in Pennsylvania. Ahead of time I wrote to two third cousins and some others. I had a wonderful visit with a cousin who insisted on housing me for the week. Another invited me for an overnight and arranged that two other cousins come to meet with me.

On the overnight, we poured over old photos and shared stories. Late in the evening it was suggested that I needed to visit "Adeline." I had promised an early return to my other hosts, who were taking me to visit yet other relatives, so I didn't want to be late. As we sat together, their suggestion became more and more insistent. At their urging, I called Adeline, even though it was quite late. She was reportedly ill, as well as elderly. I was uncomfortable with putting her out. I asked if she would be up at 8 a.m. "Honey," she said, "I don't sleep much anymore. You just drop by. I'll be here."

Very early in the morning, I pulled into Adeline's yard. There was no answer right away, and I felt even worse that I might be disruptive to this person. Eventually, her son came to the door. I met with a very elderly lady. She pulled out files and pictures, a family Bible, and more. Although she got around only with a walker, and then with difficulty, she wanted to fix breakfast for me. While we were looking at pictures, I spied one that had a handwritten "Baby John" label. It was very old, a post card. Everything I knew of dating this type of photo would put it right at the time of my father's babyhood. I told her that from my knowledge of the family tree, there would have been no other "Baby John" at that time. He was an only child of parents who were undoubtedly pleased that they could have even one baby. They would have been very likely to have taken pictures and sent them to distant relatives. "I always wondered who that was," she said. "May I make a copy?" "Honey, I want you to have that picture." "Oh, no. I couldn't take your picture." "That picture means a lot more to you than to me." I also got one of my great-grandfather's funeral cards from her.

When I hugged her goodbye, she cried. I was torn. I wanted to be with her, but I was making many others late. A few days later I returned with my other relatives and renewed friendships that had been forgotten for many years.

When I returned home a week later, a letter was already waiting for me saying that Adeline had passed away.