In Picton’s Glenwood Cemetery just three angels “keep their places”, each chosen originally, to mark the grave of a child. In subsequent years, parents and siblings have been interred in these family plots, their grief to be recalled for eternity by the serene white sentinels rising above their graves.
On a steep slope in the west corner of the cemetery, stands a finely sculptured Carrera Marble Angel, clasping a bouquet of lilies. Mounted on a large block of gleaming black granite, she gazes gently over the grave of Ruth Guest, who died, tragically, on a family outing, when only six-years-old. While there is no inscription on this monument to tell Ruth’s special story, the angel remains an eternal symbol of her family’s great love for her.
A haunting story of angels and omens was related, more than half a century after Ruth’s death, by her older brother, Azel Guest of Whitby, in his book Strong like a Mountain.
He recalls that his family moved to a house near Glenwood Cemetery, when he and Ruth were very young children. As they explored their new neighbourhood, they passed the Jones Monument Works, where gravestones were on display. Azel was “startled to see a lifelike figure, standing in stark relief from the other stones”. It was a snow-white marble angel, atop a polished granite base that gleamed like ebony.
“Ruth stood before the monument, as frozen as the angel itself, and for the first time in her life, spoke a complete sentence. “I want that,” she announced to her adoring elder brother. “You don’t want that Ruth. Its for a grave. You only get one of these if you died,” said Azel.
Ruth repeated her desire to have the angel so emphatically that Azel was forced to promise he would ask their mother about it when they reached home.
Mrs. Nellie Guest, a devoutly religious woman, was shocked when she learned of her daughter’s desire for the marble angel. Her response was an anguished moan, followed by fervent entreaties to God, to spare the life of her child.
“Oh, no, please dear God, not an omen,” she cried.
The incident had been all but forgotten, a few weeks later, when the Guest family planned an
excursion to Napanee, in their new motor car. Azel was unable to sleep for excitement, the night before the journey. “It was like waiting for morning, on Christmas eve,” he said.
The big day, finally, arrived and young Azel eagerly awaited the start of the trip. The outing was delayed, however, by loud wails from his older sister Beatrice. The cause of her considerable distress as their mothers sudden announcement that the outing must be cancelled, because she had had a vivid dream, the night before. She had seen six, coal’black horses drawing a hearse through the gates of nearby Glenwood Cemetery and had witnessed her little daughter Ruth’s body, in the casket. Mrs. Guest concluded that her alarming dream must have been God’s warning that the trip should be called off. Her family pleaded with her, tearfully, to reconsider and she went off to pray over the matter.
While she was convinced that the most anticipated outing was against God’s will, she reluctantly agreed that it could proceed as planned, because she did not want to disappoint her. children. Tears quickly turned to smiles as the youngsters climbed into the car to begin their journey.
As the miles passed, Beatrice suggested they should watch for an ice cream stand. Soon a concession stand was spotted, along the roadside, near Deseronto. Beatrice and Ruth left to buy cones, while the rest of the family waited in the car.
As they made their way back to the vehicle, Azel watched in horror as a big touring car suddenly appeared on the highway. Little Ruth, directly in its path, stared straight into her brothers eyes,
pleading desperately, for rescue, then was hurtled through the air, like a discarded doll. The critically injured child was rushed by ambulance to Belleville Hospital, but her injuries proved fatal.
“Standing beside Ruth’s open grave in Glenwood, I knew at last that Mother’s dream was a warning from God and the omen was real. Already, Ruth’s marble angel was being engraved at the Monument Works, for the grave before me, on the hillside.”
Embittered by the senseless death of his beloved little sister, Azel recalls he wanted “to get even, to hurt someone.” He experienced a strong desire to get away from everyone and, one day, followed a rarely used wagon track into Glenwood. He made his way along a valley, until he reached Ruth’s grave.
“Standing below the angel, I stared into the blackness of her unseeing eyes and knew hatred. I hated cars. I hated ministers. I hated Italian carvers. Yes. I hated angels, too.”
In his anger, young Azel picked up a stone and “like David of old, slung my missile straight and true, to the head of the angel, where it grazed her brow, then clove five inches of white Carrera marble from her wing.”
“The wingtip dropped to the ground below and buried itself in the still soft earth of my sisters
The angels keep their ancient places;
Turn but a stone and start a wing!
‘Tis ye, ’tis your estranged faces,
That miss the many.splendoured thing.
– The Kingdom of God by Francis Thompson
grave. I felt peace.”
A month later, the cemetery caretaker noticed the angel’s broken wing and brought the matter to the attention of Azel’s father.
Vandals were blamed for this desecration and Bert Jones of Jones Monument Works was called to repair the damage.
“The wingtip is gone now, but it stayed in place for many years, before falling off in 1963,” says Azel.
This haunting story of angels and omens bears witness to the history to be found within the gates of Glenwood and many other area cemeteries. Awaiting discovery, in these cities of the dead, are the hopes, fears, dreams and achievements of past generations. Glenwood’s sorrowing angels stand, heads bowed, In silent vigils that have spanned almost a century. Their mystery is a special part of this cemetery’s incredible beauty.
Excerpts from Azel Guest’s book, Strong Like the Mountain, are used by permission from the author.
This article was originally published in the June 2002 edition of Quinte KIN.
