RIP Uncle Robert. We are from an older place. A fantasy place in southern plantations and such. The reality is that we were poor. We survived the trip from Bristol to the new world. We made it to Eastern Shore. We lived on oysters, mussels and clams and whatever fish we coud catch. We made our peace as best we could with the Algonquins, who became our family. We all just tried to survive, the trash from the streets of Bristol to be honest. In time, the Byrd family moved westward. And in time, you made your break from Virginia so that your branch survived the Civil War. Mine did not. They starved on Eastern shore and in the Portsmouth area.
I met you as a toddler. We were saying godspeed to my greatgrandmother as we gathered in Eastville, Va. I am so glad that you came to grips with the reality of the horror of slavery. At last. Yet so late. Yet there you were. And we made peace. Slowly. Carefully. But at least we took the tentative steps.