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Articles - It's Never Too Late |
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“Goodnight, My Someone” “I was seven years old when my baby brother, Freddie disappeared from my life as completely as if he’d died. I was nine when my second brother Larry disappeared.” Both of my brothers were born with severe brain damage and were deaf and blind. Freddie was one year old when his severe convulsions and medical needs became too much to be handled at home. My parents placed him in a home for severely disabled children in Norfolk, Connecticut. Freddie died days after his second birthday. Less than 6 months later, my parents had the heartbreak of having to place their second son in the same home. Larry lived there until he was nineteen. I know now, that my parents were trying to shield my sister Marita and me, but at the time I didn’t understand why my babies were suddenly gone. I was an intense, sensitive child who loved mothering my two baby brothers and their “disappearance” was very traumatic. I can remember singing the song from The Music Man that says, “true love can be whispered from heart to heart…but I must depend on a wish and a star, as long as my heart, doesn’t know where you are.” I never knew where they were, but I wanted to send them my love. Because we never had an explanation or diagnosis of my brothers’ condition, I developed a strong interest in genetics and at one point planned to be a geneticist. I was determined that some day I would solve the mystery of what had caused my brothers’ severe problems. My family moved to California when I was 13. When I married and thought of starting a family, the issue of genetics was much more than an interest. Should Randy and I have children, or would we be risking the same tragedy that struck my parents? I searched for answers. My brother Larry, was still alive so I had genetic testing done on him in hopes of finding a diagnosis and explanation of his condition. As the test results came in there were no answers. It was only a few years later that I received word that Larry had died. I immediately asked for an autopsy. I might finally get some answers. I was house sitting for my parents when the autopsy report arrived. I remember so clearly sitting on the tile step in their foyer as I read that paper. I also remember the crushing disappointment when it provided no clues to the genetic mystery. I had to give up my quest. My husband Randy had become interested in genealogy, tracing his family back several generations. We were blessed to have three healthy sons. They were young adults when it struck me that we could use some of the methods Randy had developed in his genealogical searches to find my brothers, because I never knew where they were buried. In order for the finances of my brothers’ care to be met, they had had to be declared wards of the state. This may seem strange today, but at the time, that was the way children with needs as extreme as Freddie and Larry’s were handled. One of the ramifications was that we didn’t handle their burials. The only information I had was that both boys had been cared for at Ann Storck’s Nursery in Norfolk, CT. Randy and I had a vacation in New England in 2004. I decided to see what information I might find. I called Norfolk’s town offices and spoke to the town clerk. Did she have death certificates for Frederick or Laurence Littauer? She did. Randy and I drove to the tiny town of 1700 in the northwest corner of the state, found the town hall, met the town clerk and picked up the death certificates for both brothers. While we were there, I wanted to see the place where my brothers had been cared for. It was important to me to visit the place they had lived. I was given directions and when we found the place, my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking. I told Randy he was going to have to do the talking because I couldn’t. A woman greeted us at the door and asked, “Can I help you?” Randy explained who we were and why we had come. “Oh, please, come in.” She invited us into the house. ”I’ve just gotten my brothers’ death certificates, and I believe they were cared for here.” I said, finding some strength in their warm welcome. “When was this?” I gave the dates, and the woman said, “Oh we should get Petey. She’s been here a long, long time.” Petey came out in her nurse’s uniform. “If your brothers were here, I would know them. I’ve been here forty years.” We visited for over an hour. The greatest benefit I received from talking to Petey was seeing the depth of her love and concern for the children in her care. “These are my kids,” she said. It was such a relief to learn that my brothers were cared for by people who had such compassion and concern. That gave me a tremendous sense of peace. Finally, one of the concerns that had caused such unrest in my heart was laid to rest. My brothers had been loved, even though I wasn’t with them. One of the interesting things I learned from my visit was that I was not the first sibling who came looking for information. I was not alone. Other siblings had the same yearning for answers and discovery. While we spoke with Petey, the Office Manager joined us. As she studied Freddie’s death certificate, she said, “This is a crematorium mentioned here. That means your brother was cremated. But here on Larry’s certificate it says he is buried at Center Cemetery. That means he’s right here in town. There’s a part of the cemetery that was set aside for the children from the Nursery. I can show you where that is if you’re interested. In fact, the town tax collector has more records.” Before long, the town tax collector and the office manager joined us in a small caravan to the cemetery. They led us to a ridge, peaceful and lovely, where there were many small unmarked graves. The burial area was provided for children from the Nursery by the generous people of Norfolk. In spite of the visit and a thorough search of the cemetery records, we have not been able to determine which grave was Larry’s. I met with the new owner of the funeral home that handled the arrangements for both Freddie and Larry to seek his help in finding Larry’s burial site. Two days after we returned from our vacation, the funeral director, called to say that he had found Freddie’s cremains. “I found them in the original cardboard shipping box in a storage cabinet. In fact, I’m holding them right now. On the sealed box inside it is labeled, Fred Littauer III.” I was shocked. I’d never considered that his cremains had been preserved. I’ve made two more trips back to the tiny community of Norfolk, CT since I got that phone call. On my first trip, I met the funeral director who placed the box holding my brother Freddie’s cremains in my hands. I felt as if a puzzle piece had just slipped into place. For over 40 years his cremains had sat on a shelf, waiting for this moment. One huge question was answered. Our research continued, but my efforts so far have not been conclusive. I haven’t been able to find out exactly which unmarked grave is my brother Larry’s. As a way to honor my brothers and show my appreciation to people of Norfolk, I decided to have a monument made for all the children buried in the special children’s section of Center Cemetery. I had an engraving of an angel holding a baby in the clouds and had these words etched on the monument:
And Secret Tears Still Flow What it Meant to Loose You No One Will Ever Know With gratitude to the people of Norfolk In memory of the children cared for at Ann Storck’s Nursery and Ann’s Nursery On the backside of the monument, I had my brothers’ birth and death dates engraved. I’ve left space so other names can be added as more information is discovered. As a direct result of our research, one unmarked grave has been identified and the surviving sibling has been connected to the site. One of the things I learned from this experience is that it’s never too late. Some things can’t be undone, but they can be healed. When something in our lives, a source of heartache, a burden, is in our heart nudging us, I believe it’s there for a purpose. We can’t force it, but when the time is right, when we have the emotional strength and spiritual perspective to deal with it, I believe we must be diligent in following whatever it is to its conclusion. By Lauren Littauer Briggs. Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. |
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