Doreen

A young child disappears around 5pm on  Monday June 24, 1946, days before her 3rd birthday. She lives near the Flynn ditch in Missoula, Montana. She was born in Hawaii, where her father was stationed and her mother was born and raised. A beautiful blonde child with curls and an angelic face. Her father, along with the sheriff and the police, search tirelessly for days. While her mother waited at home. Praying that her child and her husband would return safely. The police didn't think that she had been kidnapped, but they didn't rule it out. They received some anonymous tips regarding a vehicle at a nearby service station that had been seen around the same time as the child's disappearance. On Sunday July 7th, 1946, a man that worked on the ditch found her. What a horrible day that day must have been for her parents, even worse than the days leading up to her being found. She had been missing for nearly 2 weeks. Her father, my grandfather, and her mother, my grandmother, would forever be changed by the loss of their daughter. My mother is her younger sister born 2 years after this tragedy. This child was my aunt. I  never met her, but my relationship with my grandparents would be shaped by her death.

I have always loved the water and have always been an excellent swimmer, however my grandmother wouldn't fill the tub enough to cover my legs and she would watch me like a hawk at the pool. I am their youngest grandchild and the only female. My grandparents were extremely protective over me and sometimes it was too much. I didn't know that they were terrified of something awful happening to me or my brother. I remember yelling at my grandmother, one time, for not putting enough water into the bathtub, because I was cold. I was so frustrated with her. I didn't understand. She began crying and I felt like a piece of $@!t. I don't remember what she said, exactly, but I remember her saying something about me drowning. I promised her that I wouldn't drown. I don't think it helped. She was always the worrier. Now that I am older and a parent myself, I can't imagine how terrible it must have been to lose a child. I now know the story of their first born, and I can understand the constant worry and the hypervigilance of my dear grandparents. I wish they could have told the story sooner, but everything comes to us in our own time. I don't think my grandparents were able to tell the story, to anyone, let alone me, their beloved granddaughter. It was too much to say out loud. My grandparents never forgot that child, and my family still decorates her grave every year. Today she would have been 79 years old. Happy birthday to my Aunt Doreen.