Family History

It’s early morning and I’m already at my computer, brow furrowed, neck craned at odd angles in a determined effort to read the 18th century German script that records the births of my husband’s Czech ancestors. Is that father’s name Karel or Pavel? Is this baby girl named Anna or Anezka? Was she born in Kvetna (May) or Cervna (June)? The vicar’s handwriting is almost impossible to decipher, and even worse, I don’t know the Czech language.

But slowly – very slowly – I’m learning.

Oh, no. There’s a cross next to the baby’s name. That means he died, probably as an infant. A heaviness settles deep within when I see that yet another mother had lost a child. After an hour, my neck muscles are sore from tension. Did I translate these names correctly? Even worse, what if I overlooked a child because I misread the surname?

These are not just names on an aged register. They are real people with whom I am now becoming acquainted. Our trip to the Zamrsk Archives last August yielded hundreds of records in Gary’s Mlynar line (see Family History in a Castle). The months since have found me sitting for untold hours at the computer, extracting names and dates and learning about these families. Just a word here and there is enough to give me a snapshot of who they were:

These fathers lived in the early 1800’s in Pecin, a small farming village in eastern Bohemia. While their country was torn asunder by the warring Austro-Hungarian Empire, they lived simple lives of solidarity and unity. They were parents with heartaches; heads of families with struggles that I cannot begin to imagine.

Jan Posipil & Anna Hruskova had 15 children in 22 years, but only three survived to adulthood. Of their 12 babies who died, Jan Mathy lived the longest to 19 months. Their family included two sets of twins: Anna (died at one month) & Ludmila (one of the three who lived); and Alzbeta (died at 7 months) & Anna (died at 1 year). The Posipils lived in the 1850’s in Horni Slivno, a picturesque farming community 48 kilometers northwest of Prague.

Far from the city, the Posipils would have had minimal access to doctors and none to a hospital. As each baby was welcomed at birth and mourned at death, they would have faced these tragedies with the support of family and neighbors.

I stare at the computer screen, chin resting in my hand. Their tragedies haunt me: how can anyone cope with losing 12 of their 15 children? How would Jan even begin to comfort Anna? What depth of faith did Anna have to continue to bear children? From the information we currently have, we know that of their 7 grandchildren, 3 died as babies. Thus the cycle continued into the next generation.

I push my chair away from the desk. It’s time to take a break. The house is quiet and I am the only person home. But, oddly, I don’t feel alone; the Posipils seem near. I have spoken their names and know who they are. Although I don’t have their written history or a faded photograph, just a few words from their records have given me a glimpse into their lives. They are now a part of mine.

My heart is bound to theirs forever.