Today, in 1944, my sister died from complications of Scarlet Fever. Before penicillin this was often a killing disease, but many did survive with medical care. Unfortunately, this didn’t take place because of poverty, and some religious influence.
It’s a curious thing to know that you had a sibling that was never there, and because of pain/guilt very rarely spoken about. She was three days shy of being eight years old, not a mature person, but a normal preteen little girl.
My older brother Bob knew her well, and loved her beyond measure. He was twelve years old when she died. And now he has died. There is no more a living connection. We barely keep alive the memories of our important great grandfathers. What are the chances of an eight year old little girl?
She was my sister, she was the aunt of my children. I will always speak her name, and ponder what things might have been. Rest in peace Gayle Ondra Diestler.