I never knew my Aunt Phyllis, she died many years before I was born, but her memory lives on in me, as I was named for her and her older sister Muriel, who were younger though the favourite two of my father's sisters.
Phyllis was about 9 years old when my grand-mother passed away, then my grandfather placed Phyllis and her younger sister Dorothy into a children's home, where she stayed until she was 14 years of age.
My grand-father was a very cruel and uncaring man, and after leaving the home, Phyllis spent a lot of her free time with my mother, father and my two older brothers, whom Phyllis adored.
My mother and father moved away from Brisbane,to share farm at Gayndah with my mothers sister and her husband, and as Phyllis was still under 21 and a minor, my father asked for and received permission from his father for Phyllis to accompany them to Gayndah.
Phyllis blossomed at Gayndah, delighting in the freedom to be herself and without the threat of violence hanging over her head.
She had been feeling ill on and off for a few days when she developed severe stomach pains. She was rushed off to hospital where the doctors diagnosed a near ruptured appendix, and needed to operate quickly.
Not being her legal guardian, my father could not give his consent to the operation. Police in Brisbane were finally able to contact my grand-father who would not give permission as he said Phyllis was not really sick, just looking for sympathy.
My father was finally able to convince him of the seriousness of the matter, and he finally gave his consent, but it was too late, her appendix ruptured and she died as a result.
My father and mother were by now expecting their third child, the share farming was not profitable and money was very tight, so a head stone was out of the question after they had paid for Phyllis's funeral.
The same shortage of money appears to have followed through the rest of her siblings and their families, as no body has erected a monument over her. She lies in her unmarked grave forlorn and forgotten by nearly everybody.
Maybe some day I will be able to carry out this quest to honour this young aunt of mine, who died far, far too young, never getting to live up to her full potential.
(The photograph on the right shows Phillis with the 2nd of my two brothers, Neil Brinleigh Williams.)
Phyllis was about 9 years old when my grand-mother passed away, then my grandfather placed Phyllis and her younger sister Dorothy into a children's home, where she stayed until she was 14 years of age.
My grand-father was a very cruel and uncaring man, and after leaving the home, Phyllis spent a lot of her free time with my mother, father and my two older brothers, whom Phyllis adored.
My mother and father moved away from Brisbane,to share farm at Gayndah with my mothers sister and her husband, and as Phyllis was still under 21 and a minor, my father asked for and received permission from his father for Phyllis to accompany them to Gayndah.
Phyllis blossomed at Gayndah, delighting in the freedom to be herself and without the threat of violence hanging over her head.
She had been feeling ill on and off for a few days when she developed severe stomach pains. She was rushed off to hospital where the doctors diagnosed a near ruptured appendix, and needed to operate quickly.
Not being her legal guardian, my father could not give his consent to the operation. Police in Brisbane were finally able to contact my grand-father who would not give permission as he said Phyllis was not really sick, just looking for sympathy.
My father was finally able to convince him of the seriousness of the matter, and he finally gave his consent, but it was too late, her appendix ruptured and she died as a result.
My father and mother were by now expecting their third child, the share farming was not profitable and money was very tight, so a head stone was out of the question after they had paid for Phyllis's funeral.
The same shortage of money appears to have followed through the rest of her siblings and their families, as no body has erected a monument over her. She lies in her unmarked grave forlorn and forgotten by nearly everybody.
Maybe some day I will be able to carry out this quest to honour this young aunt of mine, who died far, far too young, never getting to live up to her full potential.
(The photograph on the right shows Phillis with the 2nd of my two brothers, Neil Brinleigh Williams.)
I never knew my Aunt Phyllis, she died many years before I was born, but her memory lives on in me, as I was named for her and her older sister Muriel, who were younger though the favourite two of my father's sisters.
Phyllis was about 9 years old when my grand-mother passed away, then my grandfather placed Phyllis and her younger sister Dorothy into a children's home, where she stayed until she was 14 years of age.
My grand-father was a very cruel and uncaring man, and after leaving the home, Phyllis spent a lot of her free time with my mother, father and my two older brothers, whom Phyllis adored.
My mother and father moved away from Brisbane,to share farm at Gayndah with my mothers sister and her husband, and as Phyllis was still under 21 and a minor, my father asked for and received permission from his father for Phyllis to accompany them to Gayndah.
Phyllis blossomed at Gayndah, delighting in the freedom to be herself and without the threat of violence hanging over her head.
She had been feeling ill on and off for a few days when she developed severe stomach pains. She was rushed off to hospital where the doctors diagnosed a near ruptured appendix, and needed to operate quickly.
Not being her legal guardian, my father could not give his consent to the operation. Police in Brisbane were finally able to contact my grand-father who would not give permission as he said Phyllis was not really sick, just looking for sympathy.
My father was finally able to convince him of the seriousness of the matter, and he finally gave his consent, but it was too late, her appendix ruptured and she died as a result.
My father and mother were by now expecting their third child, the share farming was not profitable and money was very tight, so a head stone was out of the question after they had paid for Phyllis's funeral.
The same shortage of money appears to have followed through the rest of her siblings and their families, as no body has erected a monument over her. She lies in her unmarked grave forlorn and forgotten by nearly everybody.
Maybe some day I will be able to carry out this quest to honour this young aunt of mine, who died far, far too young, never getting to live up to her full potential.
(The photograph on the right shows Phillis with the 2nd of my two brothers, Neil Brinleigh Williams.)
Phyllis was about 9 years old when my grand-mother passed away, then my grandfather placed Phyllis and her younger sister Dorothy into a children's home, where she stayed until she was 14 years of age.
My grand-father was a very cruel and uncaring man, and after leaving the home, Phyllis spent a lot of her free time with my mother, father and my two older brothers, whom Phyllis adored.
My mother and father moved away from Brisbane,to share farm at Gayndah with my mothers sister and her husband, and as Phyllis was still under 21 and a minor, my father asked for and received permission from his father for Phyllis to accompany them to Gayndah.
Phyllis blossomed at Gayndah, delighting in the freedom to be herself and without the threat of violence hanging over her head.
She had been feeling ill on and off for a few days when she developed severe stomach pains. She was rushed off to hospital where the doctors diagnosed a near ruptured appendix, and needed to operate quickly.
Not being her legal guardian, my father could not give his consent to the operation. Police in Brisbane were finally able to contact my grand-father who would not give permission as he said Phyllis was not really sick, just looking for sympathy.
My father was finally able to convince him of the seriousness of the matter, and he finally gave his consent, but it was too late, her appendix ruptured and she died as a result.
My father and mother were by now expecting their third child, the share farming was not profitable and money was very tight, so a head stone was out of the question after they had paid for Phyllis's funeral.
The same shortage of money appears to have followed through the rest of her siblings and their families, as no body has erected a monument over her. She lies in her unmarked grave forlorn and forgotten by nearly everybody.
Maybe some day I will be able to carry out this quest to honour this young aunt of mine, who died far, far too young, never getting to live up to her full potential.
(The photograph on the right shows Phillis with the 2nd of my two brothers, Neil Brinleigh Williams.)
Inscription
Unfortunately, Phyllis lies in an unmarked grave among rows of other unmarked graves.
