In 1908 Henry was blessed with a daughter.  He was 68 years old, and she was the apple of his eye.   He had returned from America for the blessed event, as he had wanted her to be born in his family home, where he along with many generations had been born.   She was named after him,  Henrietta, and she grew up very privileged.  He doted on her and was her Father, her Grandfather and her very best friend.  He spent almost every waking hour with her and exposed her to the best of everything.  He took her into London for piano lessons, and she rode horseback alongside of him.  In 1918 her world changed.  Henry died at the age of 78 and left Henrietta broken hearted.  He had invested in real estate in America, and his young widow had to come here to be able to support herself and her daughter.  Henrietta did not find those first years easy.  First the loss of her Father and then leaving the familiarity of the Village she grew up in was almost too much to bear.  The fact that her classmates taunted her because of her English accent and  she was dressed in black for a year of  mourning, just added to her sadness.  She longed for those times spent with her Father.  She returned to England many years later and went to the church yard where her Father was buried.  She could not find his burial plot and the Church no longer had the records from 1918, so they could not help her.  She returned to America disappointed.  She never stopped thinking about him, and recalled  that when they walked out of the church he was buried next to a very small tree.  She realized that that tree was no longer small, but 50 years old.  She returned to the village several years later, and she brought a trowel with her.  She found the tree and started digging around it.  Within a short period of time she found what she had been looking for.  She found the stone that bore her Father’s name.   She had the local funeral home restore the grave, and had a new stone put in its’ place.  The inscription she had put on the stone was  Henry 1918 and his devoted daughter, Henrietta.  In 1996, Henrietta’s ashes were placed with him.  Henrietta was my Mother, and I think of her fondly today, knowing she is with her Father, who meant so much to her.