Date: 
2005
Author: 
Shirley Kennedy



When I saw the doll with the white dress and chubby cheeks, I sat in a daze for 10 minutes, thinking about my sister Carol. She had a doll just like that one.

My Dad and Grandmother came to visit us at St Vincent's Orphanage. It was 1942. I was 10 years old, Carol was 14. We were each given a big baby doll. They were the last dolls my Dad gave us before he was killed in a car accident. I was 10 years old, Carol was 14.

Carol clung to her doll all her short life. She named the doll Delovely.

She moved to Georgia, got married, had two children. The children already were grown and on their own when problems started to happen with their relationship.

Her husband locks her out of the house. He ends up in the hospital, dying from cancer. Carol had a friend she knew and moved in with her along with her cherished doll, "Oh how I remember that doll."

It was a Thursday, that my sister Carol got killed.

The following Thursday her husband died.

Carol was in a park in downtown Atlanta, Georgia, a man came up behind her and assaulted her with a knife, and disfigured her face. The only way to identify her was that she had split thumbnails, called nail patrella syndrome. It is hereditary, it runs in the family. We all had the same thumbnails, my children, my grandkids, all have it.

It would help to mend a gap in my life to find her doll or at least find one just like her. I can hardly see the keyboard with tears in my eyes just thinking about my sister Carol and her beloved doll, Delovely.