Summer, 1903

Summer, 1903

Thurso, Scotland

Dear Jean,

Hinny, I’ve some bad news for you–I have heard from my Mam that your dear father died this last winter.  He was very ill with the bronchitis, but he would go to work on the docks until he dropped.  He died just before Hogmany, and is now buried in the little churchyard, quite near my own dear grandfather.  Your brother Henry has moved back home to be with your mother.  His apprenticeship is over, and he is working for a building firm in Wick.  My but he has grown! He is very tall now, almost reaches six feet and no sign of slowing down.  He will be a real comfort to your mother.

I know you want to know more news of your family.  My Mam told me your mother decided to forgive you now that your Da is gone.  He took your news very hard, and forbid the mentioning of your name.  She and Henry both decided they wanted to mend things, and even though you are far away and not likely to ever see them again, they wanted to meet your daughter and perhaps be part of her life, if that was something you wanted as well.

Last week my Mam decided to travel to Wick and visit your mother, and she asked me to come along and bring the babies (although they are not babies any more, they are real children, walking and talking and playing.)  I was very nervous, but I dressed Mary in her best, and brushed her little curls (her hair is long, now) until they shone. 

When your mother saw Mary tears came into her eyes, and she held out her arms.  Without thinking I put Mary into them and she held her grand-daughter on her lap as if she would never let her go. 

I promised your mother I would let you know she wants to see more of Mary.

So out of the sadness of your Da, something good has happened.  Your mother and brother do want to hear from you.  Eventually you will want to bring Mary to Canada to be with you, but until then, she will have kin who love and care for her.

Your loving cousin,

Heather