Summer 1886~

Praise His most holy name!  It appears that the typhus epidemic we have been dealing with for the past six months or so is finally drawing to a merciful close!

There are fewer and fewer cases being reported, which is an answer to all our prayers; however, my joy in this good news is tempered by the fact that I will never hear the joyous, rinigng laughter of my six-year-old son, Patrick Eugene, or smell the combination of leather or cherry pipe smoke of my husband, Ebeziah.  I will also never taste the sweet, fresh home-made blueberry, cherry, or applie fritters that my mother-in-law, Anna, made for us at Christmas ever again.

All are with Jesus now, in Heaven.  They are angels.  They all developed typhus, and unfortunately, Dr. Thomas wasn't able to save them because it had been far too late by the time he'd reached our village.  There were so many people sick or dying with typhus he was kept busy around the clock, tending to his patients, trying to save them from death.

Thank God, Quillan Lachlan, my other son (aged nine; he just had a birthday on July the fourth), never sickened with typhus.  It was only by a miracle that he didn't, but I kept him indoors and would not send him to school until I knew for certain that the Health Department gave the "All Clear" sounding.  

I was beyond terrified.

I just pray that a cure (or at least a treatment) can be found to ease the worst symptoms of this horrid sickness called typhus!  I've lost too many friends and even loved ones to the recent epidemic; I am still beside myself in grief.  I don't think I will ever fully get over my husband, mother-in-law, or youngest son's deaths!

~The End.~