Sophy seemed calm, her hands fold­ed, her face serene yet expec­tant.

Mar­i­an King was younger than they had thought she would be. She brought with her an atmos­phere of brisk­ness, of effi­cien­cy soft­ened by a fem­i­nine warmth. She greet­ed them, shook hands. Then she sat down, turned to Flo­ra, and began to speak qui­et­ly, sim­ply, recount­ing Eugene’s last days. She told them of his courage, his strength, his will to live. She described his attacks, his strug­gle for breath, his deter­mi­na­tion to fight through each cri­sis. Through­out her nar­ra­tive, her admi­ra­tion and deep affec­tion for Eugene were evi­dent.

She spoke of a night when the gas attacks were par­tic­u­lar­ly severe, how Eugene had clung to her, tak­ing com­fort from her pres­ence. Despite the doc­tors’ ver­dict that there was no hope, Eugene had fought. “Then I’ll fight for it!” he had declared, sit­ting upright with a strength that amazed her. For three days, he bat­tled, buoyed by his indomitable spir­it, but in the end, the gas had done its dam­age.

Mar­i­an King’s voice was steady, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears as she recount­ed these details. Flo­ra, lis­ten­ing, wept open­ly now, her sobs fill­ing the room. Bald­win’s frown deep­ened, and he removed the cig­ar from his mouth, his face show­ing a mix­ture of pain and pride. Adele, stand­ing by the win­dow, had turned to lis­ten, her face pale, her lips pressed tight­ly togeth­er.

When Mar­i­an King fin­ished, there was a silence, a heavy, charged atmos­phere as her words echoed in their minds. Then, qui­et­ly, she added that Eugene had men­tioned his fam­i­ly in those last days, express­ing his love and his regrets. She con­veyed his final mes­sages of affec­tion with such ten­der respect that even Flo­ra’s sobs ceased.

Final­ly, Mar­i­an King stood to leave, express­ing her hope that her vis­it had brought some com­fort. They thanked her, their voic­es low, each lost in their own thoughts and mem­o­ries of Eugene. After she left, the room remained silent, the fam­i­ly sit­ting togeth­er, unit­ed in their grief and in their pride for the son and broth­er who had fought so valiant­ly.

Aunt Sophy, her calm demeanor intact but her eyes shin­ing with a mix­ture of sor­row and pride, looked at each mem­ber of her fam­i­ly. In her gaze was an unspo­ken under­stand­ing of their loss, but also a reminder of Eugene’s brav­ery and strength. And in that moment, despite their dif­fer­ences and past griev­ances, they were sim­ply a fam­i­ly mourn­ing their hero, remem­ber­ing his courage, and begin­ning to find a way to move for­ward togeth­er.