I wonder who rode with you on your final ride,
up to the top of this beautiful hillside.
In this place that could have been a park,
did anyone know you were born, Myrtle Clark?
I wonder if they took the time to pray,
or were they worried about the time of day?
Why would you be left in eternal slumber,
with nothing more than a stone with a number?
I do not know who made this choice,
but today it is time for us to rejoice.
We should no longer feel sad,
your name is now known, Myrtle Clark Cozad.
When someone we love dies unexpectedly, there is a tremendous amount of shock. When suddenly they are no longer with us, it can trigger very strong reactions, emotions, and questions. My great grandmother Myrtle Frances Clark Cozad did not die under these circumstances. She was in the prime of her life, about 34 years old, when she had her 6th child. That child was my grandfather Oscar Cozad. Within the first year of his life, Myrtle began to show signs of what might have been postpartum depression. She lived at the asylum from 1910 until she died in 1916.
—Used by permission of Jeff Carithers