And my legs. In 1865, Josiah designed an orthopedic device, metal splints that attached to my legs and connected to a support around my waist. With these splints and crutches, I could stand, I could walk, awkwardly, but truly.
For the first time since I was 8, I walked.
"You've given me so much," I told Josiah that day, standing in our house with tears streaming down my face. "You've given me love, trust, and children. And now you've literally made me walk."
"You've always walked, Ellaner." He watched me as I took my uncertain steps. "I just gave you different tools."
My father came to visit us twice, in 1862 and 1869. He met his grandchildren, saw our home, our business, our life. He saw that we were happy, that his radical solution had worked beyond all expectations. He died in 1870, leaving his estate to my cousin Robert, as required by Virginia law. But he did leave me a letter.
“My dearest Elellanar, by the time you read these words, I will no longer be here. I want you to know that trusting Josiah was the wisest decision I ever made. I thought I was providing you with protection, I didn't realize I was providing you with love. You were never indestructible. Society was too blind to see your worth. Thank God, Josiah wasn't. Live well, my daughter. Be happy. You deserve it. Love, Father.”
Josiah and I lived together in Philadelphia for 38 years. We grew old together, watched our children grow up, welcomed grandchildren, and built a legacy from the impossible situation we found ourselves in.
I died on March 15, 1895, exactly 38 years after leaving Virginia. Pneumonia quickly took me; my last words to Josiah, as he held my hand, were, "Thank you for seeing me, for loving me, for making me whole."
Josiah died the next day, March 16, 1895. The doctor said his heart had simply stopped, but our children knew the truth. He couldn't live without me, just as I couldn't live without him. We were buried together in Eden Cemetery in Philadelphia, under a shared headstone that read: Ellaner and Josiah Freeman. Married in 1857, died in 1895. A love that defied the impossible.
Our five children all lived successful lives. Thomas became a doctor. William became a lawyer and fought for civil rights. Margaret became a teacher and educated thousands of black children. James became an engineer and designed buildings throughout Philadelphia. Elizabeth became a writer.
