Loss

Dearest My Peeps,
It's too late to be up & I am going to bed very soon. There was a majour accident in Blackville on the morning of Thursday, the 7th. I heard about it this afternoon. Pat's folks & sister had to come up for something and the traffic was being rerouted through the back roads because of the accident the day before. I didn't know at the time who it was, or when it had happened.

It was Katrine Bryenton and her husband. I don't know if that's her last name now, but it's what I always knew her as. She was one of the nicest ladies I can say I have had the privledge of knowing. They didn't survive. Apparently he was driving and had a heart attack at the wheel. The police say that she was trying to steer the car, but quite obviously couldn't do much from the passenger's seat. Two of my aunts & uncles were there too. They'd went to Blackville together & were driving behind them. They couldn't stop in time & slammed into the back of the car. None of my relations were seriously injured, thanks be only to God, but Katrine died in the resultiung crash. Apparently the car slammed into a house and moved it off its foundation some. Nobody in the house was hurt either.

I haven't seen Katrine lately. Last time was a year or more ago in Burger King. She was doing great. She used to go to my church when I was little. She was a good, kind woman. She taught me in Sunday School & treated me just the way I wanted to be treated. She didn't condesend to me, or laugh at me, or patronize me, or anything. She held me to be her equal. EQUAL & she was older than my parents & I doubt I was more than 10!

The world lost a most excellant woman this week. We are all that much more poorly off than we were two days ago. But Katrine's gone home, and it's not likely she suffered much during the transition. So she's better off anyway.

So long Katrine. Until we meet again. I don't know when that will be, but I won't ever forget you in the meantime.
Vicky Ellen Mullin
"Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream.
For the soul is dead that slumbers
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art; to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow