It has been a very trying week with the memorial for Grace Brown happening this past Tuesday at Big Moose Lake in the Adirondacks. About 200 people witnessed the memorial wreath being placed in the lake that day, including descendants of Grace herself. Unfortunately, I was not one of them. Due to work commitments, I could not attend and I was very devastated about that. As I mentioned in my last blog, I made arrangements to have a dozen red roses sent up to the lake, along with a brief message to Grace.
In addition to posting my last entry, I spent that unhappy Tuesday thinking about Grace. I am not related to her in any way, but I certainly felt terrible about not being there. I found nearly every thought that I had that day to be about her. I could hardly get to sleep and I was so choked up. I have only been involved with Grace's story for a year as of this past Wednesday and I haven't really known about Grace that long, but I felt like I have lost someone very close to me.
In a way, I have but at the same time, I feel as though I gained one as well. It is as if Grace has become a permanent part of me.
Since then, I have been trying to take it easy as I go through the mourning process, which is why I haven't posted anything since that day. I have posted a brief memorial blog on my Yahoo 360 site, but other than that, I have been trying to take it easy as I go through this period.
I also watched news reports in connection with that day and I learned that Grace's relative did not know about his relation to her until the day he had to read Theodore Dreiser's novel, "An American Tragedy" in college. At first he told his father that the book was all right, but it wasn't until his father told him that the book was about his grandmother's sister (Grace) that he became interested in the book.
When he came to Big Moose that day, he brought with him several of Grace's personal effects, including her school-age diary, her baby cradle, and a lock of her hair.
Hopefully, Grace received my flowers and my message to her and hopefully the day will come when I will finally be able to go up to Big Moose and I will finally be able to pay my respects to the famous young writer from Chenango County who has captured not only the hearts of dozens of people all over the world but mine as well.
And now that the memorial is over, I can finally get back to the story of Chester Gillette's last days, but that will have to wait until sometime next week.
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