Continuing my imagined letter from my great grandma Lois to her daughter, my grandma Ida, you can find the first part here:
Dearest Ida, you may think you have some idea of how your father and I met, married, and that our lives were completed by our joy of having five beautiful children. You may also have understood that the romantic and beautiful story I have allowed you to believe is somewhat different from what your uncles and Grandmama may have implied. I am sure your brother George knows more of the truth than maybe he has told you – although he has probably told his brothers. I have never discussed it with him. After my dear Louis, your beloved father died, his mother – your Grandmama and you uncles were very kind, in their way, to you. I know you all visited Mrs Moses in her splendid house in Regents Park, and you know that I was never invited, nor indeed ever met her because of course I am not a Jewess.
After your poor father died in such terrible circumstances – and you must never, ever, ever give any credence to the stories which circulated that he was drunk when he fell in the street – after his shocking death, his brothers visited me. In their way they were kind, but I was never allowed to see my dearest Louis, never say good bye to my beloved, except in my heart. Your brother George may have told you of the tragic events as he was with Father when he died. My beloved Louis had the greatest heart, the most loving and kindly heart, but it was that heart which failed, breaking my own heart as his was truly broken.
We met by chance; he glanced at me and tipped his hat and I should have looked away and walked past him with your Aunt Sarah. Ida, my dear, your Reginald is a handsome man, a very clever and intelligent man, and in many ways he reminds me of your father. He has the same quick wits, the same dreams of adventure and that readiness to make bold decisions. However, in many ways they are very different. Father loved music and he would say such things that I would laugh and laugh, and I remember he was always such a happy and jolly father to you children and I remember in particular you being such a happy little girl, wreathed in smiles, he would say, wreathed in smiles. Sometimes, my dear, I felt as if I could never laugh or smile again, but you have been such a strength to me, even though I may not have always showed how much I have appreciated you.
Today 4th March, eleven years after your father left us, you are to marry Reginald; you have your nephews Howard, Monty and little Louis as your page boys, your brother George will give you away, and I will be with you, my heart full. Dear Ida it gives me such joy to see you properly married, because, I confess to you that Father and I never had that happy and propitious occasion to celebrate our union but I truly believe we were wed in the eyes of heaven, for why else would we have been blessed with five such children as you and your brothers.
With fondest and everlasting love,
Lois Penney Walford