Written on 2014-04-25

My Aunt Marie Duncan

For so many back in the early 19oo’s, disease and death were always there, sometimes overwhelming, as in the Spanish Influenza. At other times, it would swiftly attack, taking a loved one’s life in the blink of an eye. My Aunt Marie was such a case.

My grandparents had two boys first, my Uncle Bill, then my father, Chuck. The third child was a girl. My grandfather wanted the baby named Marie, like his wife, so he would always have a Marie near him. How prophetic his words would be. One day she became quite ill and was taken to Mercy Hospital. She languished, the doctors having no idea why. On about the fifth or sixth day, an older doctor came into the ward and exclaimed that she had the Black Plaque, bubonic fever. By then, it was too late. Marie died the next day. My father told us that he remember walking down the street, crying.