If you see me talk about Henry, I’m most likely referring to a little boy named Henry Lawrence that is buried in Salem, MA’s Old Burying Point Cemetery. Here’s his headstone:
There’s not much information about him because he was just a little kid from Salem. His headstone is really all the information we have about him:
“In Memory of Henry Lawrence. Son of Capt. Abel and Mrs. Abigail Lawrence. His death was instantaneous by falling from a Horse. Aug 13th 1798. Aged 8 years, 8 months.”
His sisters, Mary (age 9) and Polly (age 4) are buried beside him but his parents aren’t, so I suspect they moved away after they lost their children. May they all rest in peace.
I first learned about him when I was in my junior year of high school. At my school, the junior year always got to go to Salem (”educational” purposes). We had to look up the headstones and pick one and then write about the cause of their death, or whatever we could learn about them. In the Old Burying Point cemetery, a lot of the famous people from the witch trials are buried. So most people picked the Proctors or someone else that was easier to research. I chose Henry and I’m not sure why. When we went to visit Salem, our task was to find the headstone we wrote about and take a picture. So we did. Then I just sat with Henry for a while. I don’t know why I feel so attached to him, it just is what it is.
Now every year my mom and I go back at least one time to visit. I always leave him gifts. Always toys, usually stuffed animals. I’ve left him an orange and white cat, a sheep, a sheepdog, a monkey, and a lemur among other things. Sometimes I see him in other people’s photos because of the toy I leave behind. I always wonder if other people may leave him things too. Or if he gets more attention because of it. I really hope so. He deserves to be remembered.