Reverberating Effects of the African American Experience
My Grandfather's death in 1987, while traumatic for me, was also the start of a journey to know more about his life. I knew his Grandfather was a slave...I knew he left Texas in the late 30's due to threats related to an interracial relationship. I subsequently discovered his parents had both died by the time he was 7 and he was raised by his brother. Curious about this, my sister was able to obtain the death certificate of his mother, Eliza Mills, died Oct. 24th, 1918. It indicated she was buried in Hickory Grove Cemetery, Kilgore, TX. So, in 2003, we traveled there to hopefully get more info on her and other ancestors that may be buried there.
We arrived at a beautiful cemetery...immaculately manicured...obviously well cared for, but we were unable to find her. It was then we noticed a dark entrance leading into the woods behind the cemetery...an unkept space where we found our ancestors under leaves, overgrowth and down trees. This is a picture I took of my sister, standing at the end of the dirt path my ancestors walked, right along side a beautifully kept, segregated cemetery, only allowed to bury their loved ones in the woods behind it. The second pic is the African-American section of that cemetery, just behind it where my ancestors now rest. My heart still drops each time I revisit this memory.
As we exit Black history month, and ironically on the eve of Eliza Mills' birthday, my hope is this month brought an appreciation of these and other aspects of the African-American experience that still have a reverberating affect today. Stay blessed.