I cannot begin to imagine what it feels like to write a child’s epitaph. I am not a parent, but I have many children in my life whom I adore, and the thought of losing one of them is terrifying. But at the same time, I know it is something that has been endured for centuries, and I am reminded of that when I walk through a cemetery.
Mildred Schmitt’s family called her “our dolly” on her monument. (We’ve looked at her memorial before, as she perished in the Collinwood School Fire of 1908.)
Mary Sneddon was remembered as “our bonnie lassie.”
Debbie Ruth Hosler was memorialized as “our darling angel.”
John Card’s parents probably optimistically thought he would be the only child they would have to bury, and so they topped his monument with the words “our treasure.”
Sadly, there is a second almost identical white stone next to that one for Harry Card, presumably John’s brother. This one reads “our other treasure.”
A Grave Concern 