Peace
Spring waned and summer set in with its scorching heat. Wheat had been harvested and threshed, and the corn stood high in the fields, the leaves rolled up in the scorching sun. The berry bushes and weeds along the public highways were of a gray color, made so by the dust from the road which had settled upon them. Many of the creeks in the country had gone dry, and numbers of the country folk were without water, only as they would haul it from some neighbor or from some public well. There had been no rain for several weeks, and many were becoming ill.
The Harmon family were well blessed in having an abundant supply of water, and were sharing it with their unfortunate neighbors. On the Harmon farm was a well which had never been dry, and the supply of water seemed inexhaustible, for neighbors came from the east, west, north, and south, hauling water for their family supply, and also to water their stock. Tanks were filled to furnish water for the different threshing machines in the country, and Mr. Harmon prided himself on his well that would furnish good, clean, pure water for the community. The well was deep, and he felt free from any disease germs that are so often found in drinking water during the summer months. There was much sickness among the people, but not any in the Harmon community. Many were coming down with that dreadful disease, typhoid. Numbers had died, and some entire families had been smitten with the disease.
The latter part of August a letter came from Elsie, informing them that Dan had not been well for some time, and was now not able to be out of bed, and she feared he had the fever. She also stated her own physical condition and what it would mean should Dan be sick any length of time. Another letter two days later informed them Dan really had the fever and was continually raging and asked if someone could not help her out. Immediately Mother Harmon made ready and went to her.
Dan was really a sick man, for he lay for weeks in a delirious condition and had to be cared for constantly. They despaired of his life. After several weeks he began to amend, but the fever left him in such a weakened condition that he needed constant care for some time, and Mother Harmon stayed on. Although Dan began to improve, another care came to Mother Harmon, for Elsie presented her husband at this time with a new son which she named Otis Harmon. This only increased the burden upon Mother Harmon’s tired body as she cared for Dan, who in his weakened condition required special attention, and then to care for Elsie and the new baby. Mary had been sent to an aunt, who tried to help out in this way. It seemed difficult to get anyone to assist, as all feared the disease and thought it might be they, too, would come down with it. Mother Harmon worked untiringly and unceasingly, sparing not herself or her feelings, trying to help her loved ones who needed care and attention. When baby Otis was ten days old, Mother Harmon became ill, and after a few days had to return to her own home. This left Elsie to care for her baby and also to do many other duties about the place which were too much of a burden for her in her present physical condition. The aunt who had kept Mary during Dan’s illness now came to render what assistance she could, but it was not like when Mother Harmon had been there, and many strenuous tasks that should not have been Elsie’s were done by her. Dan gained strength rapidly, but Elsie could not recover from that tired, distressed feeling all the time.
Mother Harmon returned home and for some time seemed to be on the way to recovery. She did not lack for care and attention, for Roy and Father Harmon were untiring in their efforts to make her comfortable and to care for her. Her condition was due to overwork and the strain of caring for Dan and Elsie. The physician told them a few weeks of complete rest would soon put her on her feet again and she would be able to be about her duties in the home. But it seemed she was slow in gaining strength, although she was not confined to her bed all the time. October passed, and November came in with its cold, windy weather.
A light snow had fallen, and Father Harmon laid in a good supply of wood, that Mother Harmon would have plenty to keep the house warm without having to step outside to get it. She had prepared the morning’s meal, and after lying down to rest, arose and began to tidy up the house a little. As she bent over the big wood box to get some wood for the stove, she was seized with a peculiar feeling and fell on the floor, where she was found when Father Harmon entered the house some time later. She was unable to assist herself in any way and could scarcely speak, but after some effort made them to understand how it all occurred. A physician was immediately summoned, who pronounced her case an attack of paralysis and her condition serious. All was done for her that could be done, but at the end of the third day, while Father Harmon, David, and Roy stood about her bed, and some kind neighbors and friends tried to render all the assistance that could be given, Mother Harmon passed into eternity.
What a blow this was to the family, and especially to Roy, for she had been the one who understood, the one in whom he could confide and feel that there was something akin in her own heart to that which he felt! Where would he go now and to whom could he turn? He went about as one in a trance without a word to say to anyone, even though he was asked about what his desire was concerning the burial. All that he could reply was, “Do as you think best, for I cannot tell you.” No tears came to him to relieve him, but his pale face and quivering body told of a grief that had struck deeply, eating into the heart’s core. When her body was laid in the casket and the family gathered about, Roy stood speechless, staring at the remains of her who had been all to him that a mother could be and his sole confidant and the one who understood. No tears came to his relief, but his body trembled as one with a chill, and his face paled so that all could see his grief was too deep for tears.
But, much as friends extended sympathy to Roy, all hearts went out to the only daughter so many miles away and unable to attend the funeral. Her health since the birth of baby Otis had been such that she could not get away from home; the care of the two children occupied her time and exacted all the strength that she had.
So Father Harmon, David, and Roy, with the many other relatives and friends, followed Mother Harmon to her last resting place, and after lowering the casket into the grave the three returned to the home that had been robbed of all that made it really a home, for, “What is home without a mother?” David returned to his work, but as Father Harmon and Roy returned to their daily routine of work on the farm they realized their sad loss more than any of the bereaved ones.
Mother Harmon had been gone two weeks, when one evening Roy saddled one of the horses and, leading it from the stable, started to mount, when his father called to him to know what he meant to do. Upon being informed that he meant to go to the cemetery Father Harmon began to remonstrate, as there was a storm approaching. The lightning was flashing across the sky, the thunder was rolling, and the blackened clouds spoke of a real downpour of rain.
“Why, son,” said Father Harmon, “don’t you know that you will be drenched, for you will not get to the cemetery before the storm will break? You must not go now.”
But no amount of persuasion was of avail, and as Roy mounted the horse he said, “I have stood it as long as I can, Papa, and I must go. I want to tell Mother just how I feel, for she was the only one who ever understood me. I am sure now that she will understand. I want to tell her that I mean to follow in her footsteps. I can’t bear it any longer, and I must go. I shall tell her I am coming after her.”
Father Harmon shook with emotion as he said, “If that be the case go, son, and God be with you to protect you.” Roy rode off into the gathering storm toward the place where rested the body of her that had meant so much to him. On he rode, and as he neared the cemetery the storm broke upon him in all its fury. The wind blew until it seemed he could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle, but still he rode on. The rain came down in sheets, but on he went. As he entered through the gates of the cemetery, there came a blinding flash, and his horse swerved, and there was a deafening roar as the lightning struck a tree nearby and a limb fell directly across his path. The horse stopped short as if blinded by the flash of lightning, but Roy urged it on.
Soon he was beside a newly-made mound. As he knelt beside it, while the rain poured down upon him and the lightning flashed about him and the thunder roared above and about him, Roy poured out his heart unto his mother’s God and in doing so found relief in an outpouring of tears. For some time he knelt there, weeping as only one can in such circumstances; but as weeping subsided, he lifted his voice in supplication to God, and there beside the grave of his mother, while the elements roared about him, Roy found the peace for which his troubled soul had been longing, and the assurance that some day he would meet his mother again.
The rain poured down upon him as it sometimes does at this unusual time of year, and as Roy knelt there, with the water streaming from his hat brim and running in streams about the grave, he was in such agony of soul that he became oblivious of all of his surroundings. The storm abated, and as Roy arose from his knees, looking down on the grave of the one who meant so much to him, he said, “Oh, Mother, I had to come to you again, for you are the only one who really understood me, and I am sure that you understand me now. I have made your God my God, and mean to follow in your footsteps, and some day we shall meet again.” He then mounted his horse and rode back home. Although the emptiness of his heart which had been made by the death of his mother had not been filled, relief had come in tears and the decision which he had made had brought a deep, settled peace in his soul that eased the heavy ache in his heart. The rain had ceased, and the evening had become chilly, but although Roy had been drenched he did not feel the chilly winds that followed the storm. He had found the relief for which his soul had longed, and balm for his aching heart.
Upon arriving home, after unsaddling and unbridling his horse, Roy walked into the house, where he met his father who had not ceased to walk to and fro across the floor all the time that he had been gone. Going across the floor toward him, Roy laid his hand on his father’s shoulder and said, “I have settled it, Papa, and have found the relief that I desired. I have made Mama’s God my God also, and I knew that Mama would understand. I found the relief while kneeling beside her grave, and I know that I shall meet her again some day.”
Father Harmon clasped his son in his arms and heavy sobs shook his frame. Tears now came to Roy’s relief, and the two sobbed out an understanding of each other. The storm had opened up a new day for each of them. For some time they stood clasped in each others arms; then Roy went to his own room and changed his clothing, picked up his mother’s Bible, lighted a lamp, and opened the Bible to the 116th Psalm. He there read that which brought great satisfaction to his soul.