George McPherson (1852-1917) is my maternal great grandfather. By most accounts, he was a difficult man and was on poor terms with his family. After he took his own life, the animosity was so great that they buried him in a local cemetery, in a plot apart from the main section. While they did mark his grave, the stone only bore the word "Father". This has always bothered me, this deliberate act of omission fueled by severe hard feelings. Everyone deserves to have his name and life dates on a gravestone. The family did not like his third wife, suicide in those days even among Protestants was a grievous sin and there was considerable shame concerning George's African ancestry. This was a big deal, something that George evidently grappled with his entire life. He left his home in Southern Ohio in his early 20's and, as family lore has it, took his mother's maiden name of McPherson in order to pass as white. It didn't work, people found out and the family concocted a cover story that he had Indian blood instead. No idea of what tribe or any other information, of course. It was only until the 1980's when family researchers including my mother put the record straight about our ancestry.
My original thought for this blog was to write about the injustice concerning George's gravestone. I had not visited in probably 20 years and was pleasantly surprised to find that someone, presumably in the family, had a small slab cemented to the top of George's stone. It bears, like the original, the word "Father" with George's name above and his life dates underneath. Additionally, next to his stone is a new one and it bears the name of his first wife Melinda. Evidently, she was there all along, unmarked.
Maybe now they can rest in peace.
This could be developed into a great story. Writer sees the first tombstone, learns of the circumstances behind it and speculates further, then revisits and sees the new stone -- closure.
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