I do the same, Bart. My grandfather, the ninth child, has a brother, the tenth, who was who died at 2 1/2. My grandfather was five at the time. I only saw my grandfather cry twice in my life, and one of those was when he shared that memory burned into him of his brother’s death. Little Bracken is buried in a small cemetery with no other relative nearby. On those trips I take to visit with my ancestors, I make sure Bracken’s grave is one that I see. He died in 1895.