In the week of the 21st June, 2023, and for the first time in 15 months, I spent time with some of my family in Cardiff. On the longest day, I went with one of my sisters, Brenda, for a journey back in time, on a family grave trail. I was especially keen to find the last resting places of certain relatives whom we had never met. Brenda and I started the day by visiting our Mother’s grave, and that of our great nephew, Teddy, a little baby who died 100 minutes after being born. Teddy was a twin; he was born with acranium (an incomplete skill) and anencephaly (a poorly developed brain); his loving parents managed to do some amazing good for the world, through the tragedy of his death, and even inspired policy changes in the UK, regarding organ transplantation by deceased babies / children.
Driving out of Thornhill Cemetery, and using Google Maps to navigate our way to Aberdare via Caerphilly, I made a mistake at a roundabout, and we ended up going the long way, via Merthyr Tydfil. Merthyr brought back a flash of memories for me, of when I was a Catholic priest, and I went on supply to the parish of St. Mary’s for six weeks, in the summer of 1988. They were the happiest and most ‘sane’ days of my 3 placements in parish ministry (1986 – 1989). On my one day off each week, whilst at St. Mary’s, Merthyr, I would often cycle all the way to Cardiff, to visit my mother, some 30 miles away. Goodness! I was fit back then!
From Merthyr Tydfil, we approached Aberdare Cemetery via Hirwaun. The cemetery is at the bottom of Cwmdare Hill. Just up the hill in Cwmdare, and facing down towards the cemetery, is Broncynon Terrace, where my Grandparents lived for most of their lives, and where my Mother was born. All of a sudden we came across a side gate to the cemetery that I had never seen before, and voilà, we were right into the sections with all the old graves where many of my ancestors were buried! We drove through this section and over into the part of the cemetery I know well, where my maternal grandparents are buried. Theirs is the only family grave I had ever visited in this cemetery before this day. My last visit to their grave was on 20 March 2022, when I spent about an hour and a half hand-painting the lettering on their faded grave.
My painting looked rather amateurish, to be honest, but I thought it was better then what I had just found, on arrival at the site; the faded text was almost impossible to read. Sadly, I ran out of time to complete the whole gravestone in one go. On this 2023 visit, however, driving up the entry road to their section of the cemetery, then turning back on ourselves via the roundabout, I couldn’t spot my grandparents’ headstone from the roadside, as I usually did. We parked up and I walked over, only to find the headstone lying flat on the ground.
Within minutes, one, then two, cemetery Attendants were nearby; they proved so amazingly helpful. Firstly, they pointed me in the direction of how to get this stone restored and repaired. Then the one Attendant kindly showed me around all the other sections and graves we were looking for. I would have never found these graves alone, especially the ones without headstones, had he not been with me: I was so grateful to them both. Brenda and I were in the cemetery for hours, right up to closing time, but it was still a bit of a rush to find all the graves, then tidy some of them up a bit, and dig holes to plant flowers and then place battery candles on top of them.
The only grave I didn’t find on this occasion, simply because I forgot to take the specific coordinates with me, was that of my paternal grandfather’s second wife, Florence Mary Evans (olim: Thomas). Florence was my paternal grandmother’s niece and 14 years younger than my grandfather when he married her, as his second wife. Needless to say I think it was probably him who drove her to die by suicide and commit the unlawful killing of their two infants, Janetta M Evans (b. 1937 d. 1940) and Freda M Evans (b. 1939 d. 1940). I have told this story elsewhere on this WordPress site.
It is my fervent hope to find the grave of Florence and her children’s next time I visit Wales.
On this occasion, after visiting the grave of my maternal grandparents, and with the help of the Attendant, I then found five other graves which I was originally aiming to look for. En route to finding these family graves the Attendant pointed out a significant memorial of a Welsh soldier, Private David Lloyd, a defender of Rorke’s Drift, South Africa, in the Zula War; the only such soldier to be buried here.
Then I came across the burial sites of my paternal great grandparents, with some of their children. My great Grandmother, Mary Jane Wood married twice. What I find strange is that there are 5 people buried in one grave:
Here they are listed, top (last in) to bottom (first in):
- Thomas Whitbread (my paternal great grandmother’s second husband, aged 82, buried 30/05/1950)
- Mary Jane Whitbread (olim Edwards; née Wood; my paternal great grandmother, aged 71, buried 15/04/1939)
- David Henry Goodwin Edwards (my paternal great grandfather; Mary Jane’s first husband, aged 50, buried 20/11/1912)
- then 2 of David Henry and Mary Jane’s children: Clifford Haydn Edwards, (15 months, buried 28/09/1910)
- Henrietta Edwards, Aged 19, Buried 8/12/1909.
Poor Henrietta suffered a horrible and tragic death, a story I hope to recount some other time on here.
Next, the Attendant showed me the gravesite for Elsie Cook, who had been killed by my great uncle Trevor John Edwards, 95 years and five days earlier than I was standing at the foot of her grave! The 21st of June 2023 also happened to be just two days before the 95th anniversary of Elsie’s funeral which, according to the Aberdare leader, was unprecedented in the town and this cemetery.
Ninety five years, almost to the day
Elsie Cook (1906 – 1928) was buried in the grave with her 11 year old brother (Albert, d. 1925) and her 13 year old sister (Iris, died 1932). Tragically, I found no headstone! Why? Even if her parents couldn’t afford a headstone, surely the thousands of people who attended her funeral (see The Aberdare Leader) could have had a collection for one? This is so sad.
After visiting the spot where Elsie was buried, planting flowers and putting a candle on her grave, I then found the burial site of my paternal grandmother Amy Evans (olim: Edwards). She was the daughter of my great grandparents, whose grave I had visited just a matter of minutes earlier. Amy was buried with two of her five children [Islwyn, who preceded his mother’s death, aged 10 months, died 1930; Gwenny May, died, aged 14, in 1937). Sadly, yet again, no headstone to mark the spot. In the photo bock below, theirs is the grave with a little sprig of carnations and a red candle. Just a few paces away, across the path, was the gravestone of Amy’s uncle, Stephen George Edwards, the brother of my great grand father, and his wife, Harriet Annie Edwards (olim Gilding) (the other photos, in the block below).
I planted flowers on Elsie Cook’s grave, and on that of my great grandparents and that of my Grandmother’s nearby uncle and aunt. Luckily I had taken enough flickering candles with me, too. I have also put the photos and memorials on my internet sites at findagrave.com as well as on my ancestry.com family tree. I am trying to build up a network of evidence of their lives and deaths, even though I never met them.
Since being on Ancestry, I have been in touch with two distant cousins. One has sadly since died, and the other, Glenys, and I are, to this day, in regular contact. Glenys is the granddaughter of Stephen G. and Harriet Annie Edwards, and is an amazing source of wisdom for all things genealogical!
I have also recounted some of Elsie Cook’s tragedy elsewhere on these WordPress pages. I will now add an additional page from today’s visit – after this one in Aberdare – to the place near her tragic death, Llanwonno.
Five in a grave
What I need to explore more about is how five people are buried in the grave of my paternal great grandparents. The tradition for burial is usually for just three coffins per grave. I cannot imagine any of these relatives were cremated, back then, as cremation wasn’t much of a thing in Wales in the early part of the 20th century, despite the near-by Crematorium – the first in Wales – being built at Glyntaf, in 1924.
What I find so strange, if I’ve got this right, is that in that one grave, the five of them are laid to rest, including a wife and her two husbands! Also surprising – and I’ll dig in to this – Wales, at the turn of the 20th century, had very strict rules and religious customs about burial of someone who had died by suicide (of course, it was still a criminal offence in England and Wales until 1961).
The Aberdare Leader‘s In memoriam, for Henrietta, is so moving. I hope to tell Henrietta’s story on these pages, here, one day. RIP dear youg lady.
As closing time for the cemetery was rapidly approaching, I found my great uncle Fred’s grave, the darling brother of my maternal grandmother. Freddy (Frederick George Harries) had just turned 90 years old when he died in 1996. He was predeceased by his wife, Mary Harries, who died in 1961, aged 63, whom I never recall meeting as I would have been a tiny child at the time of her death. Also in the grave was my uncle Desmond John Harries, whom I vaguely remember meeting as a young boy. Desmond died in 1986, aged 62
Freddie and Mary had one other child who has been rather difficult for me to find on Ancestry, until now. His name was Mansell (or Manzel), whom I remember hearing about when I was a young boy. Somehow I got it in to my head that Mansell had died as a young man in the Merchant Navy, during World War II. How wrong could that have been! Wherever did that story come from? My cousin Glenys helped me to trace details of Mansell. He actually died in Cardiff, leaving behind a wife a number of children (still living).
As Brenda and I left Aberdare cemetery at the Hirwaun gate, we then travelled past my paternal grandfather’s house in Bronallt Terrace, Abercwmboi, Mountain Ash. We whizzed past my father’s cemetery, and over the hills to Llanwonno, where great uncle Trevor, my paternal grandmother’s brother, had killed Elsie cook 95 years and five days earlier. The tragic story of the Llanwonno killing is already showing on my WordPress pages, and now developed even further, with my visit on 21 June 2023, here.
My 'memories, dreams and reflections' 
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