Looking at the empty space that existed under so many of my relatives' listings on the site set me on the search to fill in the gaps and sent me down a multitude of rabbit holes, some of which, frustratingly, are dead ends. It is definitely worth it, even with the frustrations, and gives me a nice feeling of unity and completion when I have connected all the dots, along with a better sense of who I am.

I wrote the following after my grandmother, Edna Mae McMinn Robinson, died 11 Nov 1967.

Those webs we weave with threads of life
can glisten with the dew,
and shiver in the breeze.
But the love that travels over them,
before they snap with final ease,
goes unshaken as their patterns
shine on through memories.

L. E. Black Jr.

Looking at the empty space that existed under so many of my relatives' listings on the site set me on the search to fill in the gaps and sent me down a multitude of rabbit holes, some of which, frustratingly, are dead ends. It is definitely worth it, even with the frustrations, and gives me a nice feeling of unity and completion when I have connected all the dots, along with a better sense of who I am.

I wrote the following after my grandmother, Edna Mae McMinn Robinson, died 11 Nov 1967.

Those webs we weave with threads of life
can glisten with the dew,
and shiver in the breeze.
But the love that travels over them,
before they snap with final ease,
goes unshaken as their patterns
shine on through memories.

L. E. Black Jr.