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I simply do not know how to turn to speak to
speak to you. I have just opened a letter from Dr. Tyndale5 telling me of your father’s6 death. At this distance, and
with nothing but that piece of paper to tell me of it, it just seems
incredible. I cannot believe it, much less realize it. Dear Mariel, it seems
to me that I have never known of a break in a family which seemed to me so
desolating. It just seemed to me, for a moment after I opened the letter,
as though you were all of you gone ow out of my life for always. I cant think of
your family except as all together, and it would be easier to realize any
other one of you away than your father. I keep feeling that I am writing to
you under some terrible mistake and that Dr. Tyndale’s letter somehow cannot
mean what it seems to. In most of the families I’ve known, the father, even
when he was beloved, was always a good deal of an outsider; it was easy to
think of the family without him. But Mr. Gere was so much a part of
everything that touched the lives of any of you, so much a part even of
your friends’ lives, that it wrings my heart to think of your being for a
moment without that tender and chivalrous affection. I feel that I dont want to go back to Lincoln3 any more, that I want to belive you all just as you used to be, around the fire in the library. It
seems as though I could not bear to go back and miss the your father’s smile. There is no other
like it in the world, none so wise or so serene or so kind. It is one of the
fortunate things of my life to have known it.
Of all the ber bereavements I’ve known,
Mariel, this
yours seems to me greatest, and its just because I
know how much you lose that I feel so helpless to speak to you. It seems
irrelevant to say anything at all. Only it makes one think how beautiful an
affection must have been when, so far away, one grieves so much to hear that
its ties are broken. Of your dear mother7, I simply dare not think.
Dear Mariel, I ask you to think of me sometimes when you are all together,
and to remember that for many years I have loved your father and every one
of you 1180
MURRAY HILL AVENUEvery dearly. I wish I could be there to do what I
could to help you through this hard winter. To your mother and to Neddy8 and Frances9 and you Imy love and
sympathy will go out every day. How many, many people must, like me, feel
drawn very close to you by their own sense of loss and pain.
Kiss your mother for me, Mariel. I have not the courage to write her now.
Willa Friday, October Seventh. Miss Mariel C. Gere1 849 D Street Lincoln3 Nebraska. PITTSBURG,PA;ST. R. P. O.2 OCT 10 1904 Oct 1904