A Mother's Letter to Her Son and Daughter in Law in 1963

My dad had a trunk filled with all kinds of letter and papers.  My mother wrote on the top of this letter that it was my Grandmother's last letter to her son Bernie. My dad tried to go back to Centreville every year, however, by 1963 he had 5 children, and must have found travelling that far difficult.  My dad always said that "his mother was a Saint".  This letter, although a little sad, tells the story of a generation that believed that your worth is measured in masses, and that a Mother's love never fades.   

Dear Mad, Bernie and Family,

Well I suppose Bernie is glad to be home again.  We were always so glad to see him come and so hate to see him leave.  I get such a hollow feeling in my stomach all night after he leaves and for a week or so afterwards.  He has been such a a good boy to us.  He seemed quieter than usual this time.  He hardly talks at all on Sunday.  I make up my mind I may never see him again, and I get so lonesome.  He thinks Flavian is such a a wonderful son, but he is just as good and more thoughtful.  We have had the most dreadful weather all week.  35 degrees below zero.  Well, we nearly froze up.  I said to Wilfred Burton today, "I kept my feet in the oven".  He said "I kept my hands in my pockets".  I have a cold now and don’t feel too good.  I was back to Dr. Hunt on Saturday.  He says my health is better but I’m not to go anyplace.  I still take digitalis pills. I appreciate the crucifix very much and now I will be able to say my stations at home.  It is wonderful.  There were 2 high masses for Dad last week. One was Stan Allore and he came up for me, as Mrs. Murphy couldn't get her car to go.  She is the organist.  Poor  Charlie, has had so many masses offered. There are now about 218 and 30 high masses, besides the purgatorial year and mission masses.  Isn't it wonderful.  If any man or woman gets  to heaven, I’m sure he will. I only wish I had as good a chance. 

Tell Charlie he is a little brick going so early to serve mass.  Well  Madeline, write more often if you can.  Bye for now

Love Mother