Early in 1932, William (Harold) Taylor left his family, and a yet to be born daughter, Grace Alma, who would arrive on October 25, 1932. His reasons for leaving his family are unclear. He left one evening to get something from the store and never returned.
Two years later he died of Pulmonary Tuberculosis. He was brought to a hospital in Manchester for infectious diseases by a man named John Hill some little time before he passed away. Shortly before he died his wife Doris received a message from a man telling her where he was and that if she wanted to see “Harry” before he died she needed to come quick to the hospital. Doris and her father went to see William in Manchester, unfortunately, before Doris had a chance to return he died. She received a telegram informing her of his death. Aunt Doll recalled that it was the saddest funeral she had ever been to. It was a drizzling cold day, father Barton, Doris, and Dorothy waited outside the hospital gates in the rain. They brought the coffin out and walked across the street to a little cemetery where he was buried. Much later his daughter Grace would discover that William’s burial place was not an actual cemetery, rather a small plot of ground between the hospital and an old folk’s home. Having died of an infectious disease, William (Harold) by law should have been cremated. However, due to his death occurring over the Christmas holiday the crematorium was shut down; William (Harold) along with a few others was immediately buried in this unmarked area.
All of us have a unique story to tell, that story is created as we live our life.These stories often speak of happiness, wonder, excitement, dreams, possibilities, challenges, changes, love, disappointments, sadness, resolve, joy, and endurance; single elements combining to form a meaningful life, a thoughtful story.Over time as I have listened to my mother tell stories of her family I have realized that these, my ancestors have a story worth writing, a story worth sharing.So, may the lives of our predecessors inspire us in our lives, to construct a story worth telling.
Here I need to give credit to my dear mother, Grace Alma O’Dair, for inspiring me to begin this project of putting together the remarkable stories of her parents.She has patiently spent hours helping me gather and record this information. Also, I thank my cousins in England, Steve and Martyn Taylor, for sharing their memories and pictures as well.
