Evening star., 1951-03-15

prayers for Barbara going through
our heads that quite suddenly and
unbelieveably my mind was COM
plete blank. 1t was SO quiet. The
earth of the vacant lot was a dry.
brownish color with tiny stubs OF
grass that seemed to be swept across
the field by the wind All the leaves
had left the trees; all the life had
left everything. I think We must
have had sense of utter helpless
ness, watching days go by, watch
ing an organism die, and knowing
there is nothing we could do
about it.
So the days passed. I don't know
where they went, but suddenly we
were just on the brink of Christ
mas. And it would be a good Christ
mas, for Barbara was getting bet
ter. Acquaintances of hers, people
who didn't know her we'll thought
and said loudly and assuredly that,
of course, she would recover. There
was no doubt about it. Barbara
would get we'll
And Barbara died on Christmas
night. When every one was full not
only with roast turkey and chestnut
stutfing, but with goodwill and good
cheer as we'll, Barbara passed away.
We never even knew either until the
next afternoon, so, of course, we
spent Christmas night in a buoyant
frame OF mind, and this time Bar
bara was last in our thoughts.
Hadn't she asked her mother when
she could come home, and hadn't
she sent us a message thanking us
for the get-well cards we had sent?
sent?
l, who had never known a person
to die, now faced the thought of
losing to God and Eternity one of
my best friends.
The grief of mother can never
be measured. All of us, her friends,
relations and even mere acouaint-
ances felt helpless and so down
trodden at the funeral home. After
the services, as they carried the
casket to the waiting car, We girls
OF the sorority lined up to form
path. remember feeling as if I
were standing in some ancient
Roman building with Just high,
white pillars stretching up to the
sky and on all sides of me. as if I
were all alone, watching the picture
OF what was happening. I felt an
overwhelming desire, a terrible wish
to help Barbara's mother. I felt
oVerpoWered by all the unknown and
mysterious sources of death around
me.
Older people-they knew and un-
derStood death. Perhaps they had
witnessed it; had seen their parents
ana brothers or sisters die. How had
they felt upon seeing a loved one
consigned to the ground?
1 have tried to ask myself, and n
nave tried to ask God many times
over-What could the death of a
young girl have to justify in this
world, where too many people are
living without a purpose and with
out a goal? And to all these uues-
tions, how ever many times may
ask them, there is only one answer:
1t is not for me to say.
Well probably always remember
Barbara, Even now, almost one
year after she died, I sometimes
catch myself thinking of her at the
oddest moments-at movie, laugh
ing at a joke some one told, just
falling off to sleep.
Barbara is a symbol; she is a SYM
boil of all girls who died at seven
teen. She is a symbol to us, her
friends, who now realize, young
though we are, We have many things
to accomplish before we, too, are
summoned to join the "innumerable
caravan" But there are many peo-
pie who will remember only too WV
idly and never forget the memory
of plump, dark-haired girl, singing
Justify and living exuberantly. For
them, there is only time.