From November 1884:
Wed 12th
Have been riding this afternoon, called on Rie Dougall, Mrs Emily Richards, Sister Mira, Amy Burnham, & Louie White. My dear little boy Lou was with me and seemed to enjoy the ride very much.
Thurs 13th
Wrote a letter, My little boy seemed poorly and feverish, a not unusual occurrence with him but we did not consider he was in any danger, until evening when he took with Croup, which worried me some, but I never dreamed but I could break it up as I had always been successful before, in handling that disease, so I took him to bed by my side and watched, and waited upon him through the night,
Friday 14th
Lou was worse, His Father administered to him, I worked with him as well as he would let me, being very averse to taking anything, but he constantly grew worse, At noon I sent for the elders, Bro George Coulam came and administered to him. but with out any apparent relief following, Dr Pratt came in the evening and thought it might be his lungs, but he would not allow her to get near enough to him to tell much, When his Father came home at night, he could see that the child was very bad, and as he told me afterwards, had some misgivings concerning him, We two sat up all night slept but little, could not see any improvement, Toward morning he asked me to sing a little song he had heard a little boy sing at the Primary Conference the week before, which pleased him greatly and he had sung it all the week until taken sick, I sang it repeatedly, as he seemed to enjoy it so well, and would keep asking me to sing it again, In the morning we sent up and got Bro’s Macmaster & Brighton to come and administer to him, This seemed to annoy him, Afterward he coughed up two or three mouthfulls of yellow phlegm, which seemed to relieve him for a time, but he soon breathed as hard as ever, Through the persuasions of Sister Mira, who was greatly worried I sent for Dr S. B. Young, but before he came Dr Pratt had recommended lime for him to breathe which we got and made a tent of quilts, in which I stayed and steamed with him,
When Seymour Carnehe said he was a “sick boy” which fact I well knew, but still thought he must be healed, We kept up the lime at intervals, all day, and night, I also kept giving something to sicken and loosen the phlegm He would vomit once in a while but did not get any permanent relief, In the evening, he began to breathe still harder. which alarmed me, I sent for the Bishop who came and administered but apparently without much faith,
We, His Father and I sat up again, could see that he was growing worse, I never spent such a night of agony in my life, and would lkie to be spared ever suffering so again, if it was agreable to the will of God, The thought of having to give up that noble spirit in whom I had made myself such promises of future pride and happiness, seemed more than, I could do, and more bitter still, was the terrible fear, that should he die, he would grow worse and worse until he would strangle to death, It seemed to me that my nature could not bear so great an agony, and Oh, how I plead with my Father, to let him die in peace if he must go, During the night he asked me over & over again to sing that same little song, “Old Robin is dead and in his grave’, which I did although my heart was bursting with grief, I said to him “Louie you think that is the prettiest little song you ever heard dont you” He bowed his head yes, At 4, A, M, I called all the folks up to request them to pray to the Lord that he might die easy and not strangle, then sent Maggie & Carline after Dr S. B. Young. to see if he could do any thing to relieve him, In the mean time, Mother & I ran up to bro, Felt to see if he had any tar thinking. the smoke of tar might relive him, He came down and administered to him, and seemed to have faith, Dr Young came about 5 oclock, From that time he began to breathe easier, asked for a drink of water about 6, and took good drink, from that time on he continued to breathe easier, and at or near 7 he passed away without a struggle, and although, it seemed as all light and happiness went out of my life with him, yet I was grateful to God that he had answered our paryers and let him die so sweetly, After he died he looked as if he were only sleeping, I washed his precious little body myself, feeling that I could not give up that last sacred right to another, Dr Young would take hold and help me a little, What a sad, sad Sabbath that was to me; the saddest I ever knew, It seemed so hard to have to put anything so lively in the earth, out of sight, to decay, That lovely boy that had been the joy of my life since ever he was born, yet I must submit,
Mon 17th
It stormed, as it did the day before, but that was nothing to me, If there had been two suns shining, it could not have made the earth cheerful to me, for was not my Son, the light of my life, lying cold and still, The funeral took place at 2. p. m. Bro J. E. Taylor delivered one of the most beautiful, and comforting sermons, it was ever my lot to hear. The Bishop, and Cou’s J. H. Felt & R, Morris, each made a few kind and comforting remarks. I did feel comforted to a great degree, and felt that I would be Sinning to nurse my grief, after the things of God had been so beautifully portrayed, There was a large number of sympathising friends in attendance, and the choir sang beautifully. The last piece hymn, “There is sweet rest in heaven”, was one that was always a great favorate with him, he sang it often himself, and would ask me to sing it for him, I wondered that I could hear it without my heart being wrung with anguish, but I believe he was near me and rejoiced so much in his deliverance and rest, that I was not permitted to grieve while hearing it, The rest of the week until Friday I remained close at home reading and reflecting
