Evening May 8, 1958

Dear Lillian,

The initial shock is over and some of the after effects are beginning to appear. I'm starting to remember how mother sounded two weeks ago on the telephone, and how she looked a month ago in Provo and how she listened to my HiFi set in Washington. It's going to take some effort to fill the emptiness (left) by her leaving.

Intuitively, I have always felt that someday mother would be stricken with cancer, as soon as her job was finished. Nonetheless, I have always been complacent enough to ignore the feeling. When Dad wrote two weeks ago about symptoms and X-rays, the thought of cancer leaped into my mind; I phoned home but mother answered and had not received any word. Her manner was so casual that I decided not to probe. I waited four days and finally decided to relax by going skiing. On returning home I found Dad's first letter - I picked up the phone and placed a call to Dad. He had so much confidence and faith that I asked to speak to Mother. Her spirits seemed even better than before so I spent the week end relaxed and gratified. It became evident by the letters that Dad and Mother both expected recovery. I wondered at the time by what means we could justify keeping her alive when by all probability her days were extremely numbered. Nevertheless, I began looking for the letters and the encouragement they brought. I began planning a quick dash home for Mother's Day and had found one rider to help drive, but on Sunday afternoon (May 4) Dad phoned. His confidence was gone and it frightened me. I offered to pack immediately but he quoted the doctor as saying that we should wait a couple of days. Dad and I felt that my presence was needed as a morale factor so I agreed to leave right after an interview the next day. I drove home alone, stopping in St. George Monday night and arriving in Fresno in the late afternoon on Tuesday. Dad explained to me briefly the situation and I went out to the hospital in my leisure, thinking that there was lots of time. I had purposely avoided a mind set as to the outcome until I had seen mother and learned her desires but when I walked into the room my heart dropped right to the floor. She recognized me and spoke occasionally. She brightened up, joked a little and appeared to comprehend everything that was being said and done, but it was such a great effort for her to talk that I spent the hour and a half biting my lip. It appeared to be too late to do some of the things that I had planned so I finally read passages of Pogo and laughed at all the good parts in hopes that at least she would sense my feelings. The visit was a success but when I returned home I broke into uncontrollable crying and told Dad that we would have to let her go. Dad then stated his side of the case and read Patriarchal blessings and a few scriptures. I could see that there was reason to believe that Mother still had work to do unless our interpretations were inspired by selfish motives. In the light of this I agreed that we had to fight for her life until she either improved or we received a better interpretation. We prayed for guidance with the idea that some action would be taken the next day.

Wednesday morning there wasn't too much change but I felt no promptings about the outcome. Wednesday afternoon she became restless and uneasy and couldn't understand why she wasn't going home. She thought that it should be evening instead of afternoon and wished the time would pass. As Dad and I returned home I told him that we had to do something before the evening was over. We felt that we had to be guided by our own understanding of the situation until we received additional enlightenment, recovery or death which ever came first. Pres. Sessions met us at the hospital at 6:40. We anointed and blessed her. She seemed to recognize Pres. Sessions and after he left she put her arms around our necks with a great deal of effort. A few minutes before when we arrived she had acted surprised to see us back and asked us why we were back so soon, but before the hour was out she had faded a great deal. It became difficult for her to drink and her breathing became shallow. I returned home about 9:00 to eat dinner and phone Owen Cook about your returning home. I ate dinner and was returning to the hospital 11:00 when I met Dad. We talked it over and decided that we still only had one choice - that we must fight for her life. We prayed again; after which I returned to the hospital. I relieved Shirma Sonksen and watched her until 2:00 AM At approximately 1:00 AM she called out Dad's name and a short time later said something about getting relief. Dad arrived shortly afterwards. It hurt so much to see her in this helpless condition but we blessed her again and I returned home and prayed about it. I was so tired that I slept through an alarm but awoke at 5:00 Am when Dad phoned. He told me that they didn't expect her to live until 7:00 AM. I rushed to the hospital and I could see that the end was near. Dad asked me what I thought about her chances and I said in affect that we couldn't abandon our principles but if the end came we would have to recognize it as an answer. We prayed over her, knowing full well that the odds were so badly stacked against us and that it was almost hopeless. I thought of how nice it would have been to have one moment in which we could talk to her and tell her how much we loved her and wish her well. Then it occurred to me that we are prone to settle for a substitute when the going gets rough and so I asked for no compromise, either she should be restored or taken. Her breathing became easy and faint, moments later her breathing stopped - she caught it, breathed once and it was over. I looked at my watch; it was 6:02 AM. Dad called the doctor. He checked the heart and pulse, nodded his head and left. It was 6:05 AM.

As Dad and I left the hospital we noticed that the morning sky still had traces of evening blue. Some of the stars were still shining and Dad commented on the serenity of the setting. It had a likeness to an Easter morning. We cried a little as we stood under a palm tree, shaken but relieved.

We called Wendell and told him the news. He didn't feel a change in plans was necessary. We debated over a telegram to you since our call to Owen Cook gave us no information. We pondered over an address to use since we had no idea about how mail was delivered or picked up. We finally sent the cable but in the meantime your letter arrived. Dad and I felt that you were at an unfair disadvantage in making the decision with no contact with the rest of the family and only the briefest details of a tragedy. We were doubtful about the finances and there was no assurance that once home you would be able to return to the mission. With Wendell and family home it appeared that the distress here could be alleviated but if you were to return home there was the possibility of a psychological let down as soon as the funeral was over. School is over almost, and it would leave you out of a job and restless until fall. We wondered if Mother went sooner than expected as a means of saving us from making the decision. It seemed to be her desire that we continue on with our work although she had a strong desire to live and I'm sure she had some mingled feelings about our locations. She learned that Wendell and family were coming home, shortly before she lost consciousness. Her reaction seemed to be that of slight distress at having all kinds of company and her being helpless.

People have offered all kinds of help but I'm extremely weary and Wendell will arrive early in the morning. Dad is in bed - probably the first real night's sleep in two weeks. I hope that his letter will find you in good spirits.

Love

Duane