April 12, 1935

Dear Evelyn,

As you know by now, Mother died last Thursday by her own hand. She drank horse lineament she had found in Dr. Wilfong's shed. None of us knew anything was the matter until she woke us up in the night moaning in the upstairs bathroom--she had crawled there on her hands and knees, vomiting. Aunt Harriet got to her first, she said it was a terrible sight. They managed to help her back to bed but by then it was too late. The doctor said if we had managed to get to her right after she had drunk it, he might have been able to save her. But how were we to get to her when she had her room bolted shut, and a chair propped against the door handle, as she has done for the last six months? And who knew she would go and do such a thing? Just that morning I had seen her kneeling on her garden stoop by the front hedge, cutting the first azalea blossoms to put in a bowl on the dining room table. She didn't look at me or speak or smile. But I have long been used to that, it was nothing unusual.

Father is in a state--does nothing but sit in the front parlor with the radio off, staring at the portrait of Mother on the bureau, the one taken not long after their wedding. He has not slept I do not think since it happened. Aunt Corey has come down from the hotel downtown to stay with us for a while. She has always been able to talk sense into him but I doubt whether she can do any good this time. She has brought her knitting, but I don't think she has knit a single stitch, there is so much to do. I heard her weeping in the back bathroom this morning when I was going out for more wood--father said he was cold. She came out as I passed but she avoided looking at me, though I wanted to comfort her. She loved Mother more than her own sisters, who were so cruel to her after her own husband's death.

This morning while I was passing through the kitchen I heard Essie the cook say that Mother was right to do it, anyone would have done the same in her situation. The Lord will forgive her, she said, she wasn't in her right mind when she did it. I told her if I heard another word from her mouth on the subject she would have to find another position. I doubt I will fire her, however, help is so hard to find around here.

I wish I were back living with you and the other girls at the Teacherage, which I imagine is looking so pretty at this time of year, with Miss Octavia's daffodils blooming in front. Tell her I may want my old room back soon, if I can ever get out of here. I believe I left one of my brooches in the dresser drawer--like as not another girl has taken it, but if she finds it I would appreciate it if she would mail it to me. It is one of the last things Mother gave to me before the troubles between us started.

Pray for us in our time of trial. I open my eyes every morning thinking it has all been a bad dream, but then I realize it is all true, too true. If only someone had got to Mother in time, if only someone could have reasoned with her. But I know she was beyond the reach all reason, all pity, all love when she did it.

I cannot forgive her for what she has done, that is the worst part. Pray that I might someday be able to, Evelyn.

With great sorrow,

Lavinia