by Dr. David Sanders
Today, I sent a photograph taken a number of years ago to my older sister Sarah. It was an image taken of a gravestone at a cemetery in New York where our grandmother, who we never met, is buried. My father’s mother died a few short days after giving birth to him. Her death changed the course of our lives, or more accurately gave us life, as it profoundly altered the life course of our father. Sometime after his birth our father was adopted by his dead mother’s brother, a man who I would be named after. I had always assumed that my grandmother died during childbirth. The photograph revealed the date chiseled into her gravestone as three days after she birthed our Dad. A month or so ago I had asked my sister, for the first time, if she knew what the cause of our grandmother’s death was. She was not sure, but she had heard that she died of an infection. Today, before sending her the photograph, I paid attention to the age marked on the gravestone. She was 34 years old. I wondered if that young woman had held my father before she died, the third son born to her during her short life. Each one of our unique genealogies, those whose lives preceded us and we never met, is buried and remains obscured.
Why has my grandmother Sarah, a woman who I never met and have no idea what she looked like or anything about her life, surfaced in my thoughts? The short answer is I don’t know. I can share with you that she came to me in a vision earlier this summer. She initiated a conversation with me about my father who has been dead for almost 35 years. My father meant the world to me. He would share with me the “secrets” of his life, the one most guarded was that he was adopted. My grandmother told me during our conversation that she had delegated to me the take care of my Dad, to help him heal the deep wound of “matricide.” It was his big secret.
I am indebted to this young woman, to my grandmother Sarah, who indirectly gave birth to me. There were many Sarahs before my grandmother and many Sarahs after her. We begin to see and feel our indebtedness to the long chain of birthing and dying that has resulted in each of our existences. Life. Death. Life. It is the big secret of life.
3 Comments
Martin · August 28, 2025 at 11:59 am
This story is profound from one door to the next and the continuation of the collective manifestation from keter to malchut .. and so on. Thanks for sharing this beautiful story, perspective and reminder of life’s transformative potential
David Franklin · August 29, 2025 at 9:22 am
David, thank you for sharing this moving story and your amazing vision of your grandmother. I could not read the date on the stone, but I imagine that at the time she died it could have been from Puerperal Sepsis, an infection following childbirth that was not uncommon in the days before antibiotics and good asepsis.
Sarah · August 31, 2025 at 12:30 am
Thank you, David for manifesting our long lost grandmother, for whom I am obviously named, and bringing her back to life in our thoughts. She’s often on my mind and I share your thoughts and feelings about the chain of our intertwined lives, past present and future.