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I meant to answer your letter many weeks ago. But so much has happened since then, and our gay winter had a sad ending. On February 24th I left home for New York3, leaving father4 and mother5 both fairly well. In ten days I was back home again. My father died on March 3d, of an attack of angina pectoris, without illness, with less than two hours of suffering. He never grew old, he kept his slender, active figure, his pink skin and clear blue eyes. When I got here about dawn of a spring morning and all the house was asleep, I went to his room and he seemed asleep like the others, lying on a couch in his big bay-window. Not a particle of his personality had faded from his face an easy, graceful death—just the kind he would have liked. He so hated anything violent.
A week after his funeral I got mother off to California6 with my bachelor brother, Douglass7, who lives in Los Angeles8. I stayed on here to have a lot of repairs made in the house9, so that it would be more comfortable for mother to come back to. My sister Jessica, Mrs. J. W. Auld,10 lives here, but just now she is at Northampton11, where she has a very charming daughter12 at Smith, and a son13 at Amherst.
Dear Mrs. Stowell, I would love to see you again, and when I am next in Boston14 I will certainly let you know. I am so glad that Georgia15 put us all in touch with each other once more. Father and Mother both begged me to send their love to you before I left home.Always your old friend Willa Cather