After my father, George Marin, had recovered from Polio in September 1947, our little family consisting of Dad, our mother, Irene, my one-year old brother, John, and me a two-year old traveled to Cleveland, Ohio to visit my Grandparents. On the way back to San Diego we stopped at a motel in Rawlins, WY and on the night of September 7, 1947 my mother died of a seizure. I have narrowed the possible motels to these three. The next photo is of the former hospital where she was declared dead and the final photo is of the train station doors that her body passed through on the way to the train to be shipped to San Diego.
I can only imagine how hard it must have been for my father to continue that drive with a one-year old and a two-year old and no longer a wife. Richard