Seattle
October 2014

Three months ago today I lost the love of my life, my husband of 30 years, Daniel Arthur Cambridge, to cancer. It was a day we anticipated for 3 and a half years. When the doctor delivered his diagnosis in the Fall 2015, the prognosis was not good - maybe three months -- maybe five years. Of course, all we heard was three months. So, we cried together that day. We prayed together. And, then we cried separately, in secret, for three more years. I assume Dan cried, although I never saw him do so. And he seldom saw me shed a tear.

People thought we were strange. They asked me how we talk about "it" and I said simply, "We don't." I never took the time to analyze it. That's just the way we were. We knew what was to come. We didn't need to dwell on it. We each instinctively knew that the best thing for the other was to focus on making our days together last as long as we could and making every single one count.

I'm not one to dwell on death anniversaries. Every day, in one way or another, I remember loved ones who have gone before me. But, this year, this day ... May 20 ... marks three months of living without Dan - a milestone for me. So far, I've survived what feels like an eternity. I take it a day at a time and very slowly and methodically, a step at a time, putting one foot solidly in front of the other. Because of the strength of Dan's faith in God and a life everlasting, as each day passes I am able to feel less of his absence and more of his presence. And thanks to my family and dear friends, I move forward.

My sister Eva and my daughter Greta each wrote the most beautiful eulogies and delivered them at Dan's funeral. Two entirely different perspectives, yet each one so in synch with the other. In Dan's honor, I want to share one those today. The other I will share one special day soon.

Thank you, Eva Lea, for this beautiful letter turned memorial and eulogy. Not only does it honor Dan, but it made me fully understand our need to refrain from dwelling on the dying and focus on the living - fully embracing each and every day for what it is -- a gift!

Dan, my love, this is for you. I know you're reading.

February 25, 2019

Dear Lisa

I can’t stop thinking about Dan and all the lessons he didn’t know he was teaching. Here’s the thing about Dan: He always knew what mattered most. God. Family. Responsibility. Humility. Serving others. Doing the right thing and doing things right. Knowing when to speak up and when you do speak up, be clear, be candid, be kind. Listening to those who need to talk; talking to those who need a good talking to. Spending time together and staying in touch. Maintaining a sense of humor, although I’m not sure I always understood Dan’s sense of humor because he operated on such a higher intellectual plane. But I knew he had one, and it erupted with wicked precision when you least expected it.

Dan knew it mattered not to take himself too seriously, which became clearer to me over the last few days of reminiscing and rifling through old photos. I never realized Dan’s proclivity for costumes…he was surprisingly willing to wear them and be photographed in them for various holidays, parties, parades, and any event, really, that might be better if one attended in a peculiar getup. Dan obliged.

At age 40, becoming a husband and embracing instant parenthood…he always seemed to know what mattered most in this new and sometimes complicated relationship with his readymade extended family. Patience, respect, integrity and dignity in all things. He never wavered.

Dan knew that experiences and adventure and making memories mattered. Adventures like the summer driving vacation with all your kids and a dog in tow to the Black Hills in the infamous Safari mini-van that smelled of sour milk. The journey when you moved from Iowa to Florida. With kids. And dog. And no air conditioning in the car. In July. These experiences could only have been orchestrated by Dan. He knew they were character-building. And, he knew everyone would laugh about them. Eventually.

Dan knew that my relationship with you mattered. And, so, when I’d come to visit, I appreciated that he’d quietly retire to the bedroom so you and I could drink wine into the wee hours of the night and laugh and sit in judgement of everyone that Dan was too kind and too mature to judge.

Dan also knew what didn’t matter: Things like vehicles. As evidenced by the Safari minivan that smelled of sour milk and the condition of pretty much every other auto he ever owned. Things like fancy clothes. For Dan, clothing served merely as necessary and practical covering for his body, and to capture the remnants of the full life he was living – food, wine, dirt from the garden or oil from the garage. Things like rules of the road also didn’t matter. For Dan, these were more like guidelines or suggestions, which made being a passenger in his car often unnerving. I think there was so much going on in Dan’s head that mattered more than seemingly insignificant and unnecessary traffic regulations.

And, here’s another thing that didn’t matter: Dying from cancer. Dan didn’t want his remaining time to be defined by cancer. It was obvious and inevitable and unavoidable that cancer would win in death.

But for Dan, it wasn’t going to win in life.

The thing that mattered most was living…living life with the person who mattered most…you.

He lived fully and completely. With gusto and gratitude. With sincerity and clarity. With you.

Dan showed us all what matters most: It’s not about the dying. It’s about the living.

I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to follow his example.

Love,

Eva Lea

Mother Sarah Writes "Pack your trunk and come to us!"

Sinton, Tex
Sept 9, 1909


Forest my dear son,
Ralph has just brought your letter from the office and after reading it, I just can not wait another minute to write to you. You know of course it makes one awful uneasy about you if you have gotton better and go to work it will get you down sure enough. I want you to pack your trunk and come to us just as soon as you get this if you haven't already. You can find work to do here as soon as you are able to do it. Your Pa could have gone to work the next morning after getting here. You will soon spend all the money you have saved up and can't get away perhaps. Oh it scares me to think of you having that dreadful fever and so far from us. It will be better for you and us too for you to come before you get so you can't. When you father comes from his work I will get him to write some to you and mail this as he goes to work in the morning. For I want you to get it as soon as possible. And come as soon as you get it. And let us know immediately how you are, if you don't come. But I hope you will be able to start by Friday or Saturday. If you come from Fort Worth as we did on the Katy flyer you will get to San Antonio early in the morning and take a car for the SAP depot. you will catch the train for here and get here at two oclock in the day. If you should miss that train you could phone to Bro Hafer and your father can meet you at the train for it gets here after night 8.30.
Forest I don't feel uneasy about advising you to come on account of work. Bro Hafer said the other day that they were wanting hands at Corpus in the Lynd at one time. You can go from here down there and get back for dinner. Tom and Dora came down from Beeville Sunday and he said awhile back he could have gotton [sic] a job on the R Road for Errett. It was something about keeping an egine [sic], so you see there is more places than Sinton where there is lots of work. I do want you to come so bad. I [am]so afraid you will get down before you can get off. I will wait anxiously for you. We will move on to our place this week. Will not write any more now.

Your ever loving and anxious Mother, S.E. Sweet.



Eunice is more than anxious for you to come. She says Mama tell him to come right away. Ralph says tell you he want you to come. Hubert is out at play.

This letter to Forest is written eight months after Errett's letter from Bowie, Tex. (see previous post). The Sweet's -- Lewis, Sarah, Eunice (five years younger than Forest), Ralph (nine years younger) and Hubert (12 years younger) -- have moved to Sinton, Texas, about 500 miles south of Bowie. Apparently, Errett and his wife, Flossie, did not move with them. 

Based on Errett's letter, written in Jan. 1909, I assume Forest was in Anadarko, Okla., about 100 miles north of Bowie. It's possible he is now near Dallas, because Sarah suggests he leave from Ft. Worth on the Katy, a passenger car routed from Galveston to St. Louis. The SAP depot must have been reference to the Sinton depot which is pictured to the right. She mentions that this is how they traveled to Sinton when moving from Bowie.

In this very heartfelt letter, Sarah begs Forest to come home. It seems that he has taken sick and she is worried about his returning to work before he is well.

This is a good time to share a couple of things that may explain Sarah's panic for her son --

First, she has lost several children at a young age to sickness.  In 1882 and 1883, the Sweet's lost four young children. Family stories attribute these deaths to typhoid fever. This, of course, would put the fear of God in her for Forest's well-being if she suspects he has "the fever" as well.

Big Bro - Errett

The year is 1909. This letter is written to my grandfather Forest by his older brother Errett when they were both young men. Errett writes from Bowie, Tex., and Forest must be in or near Anadarko, Okla. In the second paragraph, Errett references "up there," (Anadarko is north of Bowie) and is the home of Forest's "girl," also referenced in Errett's letter. The girl is Mary B. Fitts, soon to be his wife and our grandmother.

As noted in the previous blog, Forest struck out on his own around 1907 traveling west to Tucson and soon after made his way back to the Texas/Oklahoma area.

A little history on brother Errett --Born in 1884, he was four years older than Forest with no living siblings in between. They have an older sister, Lucy, who is seven years older than Errett. Between Lucy and Errett, Sarah Sweet gave birth to four other children. None of them lived to be more than eight years old. Three of them died in 1883 reportedly from typhoid.

Errett married Flossie Hefton in 1906 in Sherman, Tex. At the writing of this letter, Errett and Flossie were likely living with his parents, Lewis and Sarah, in Bowie. In the previous blog's letter (dated Dec. 1908), Lewis mentions that Flossie was sick and Errett appears to be a source of information about town.

Errett and Flossie will eventually move to Sherman, Texas, as shown in the 1910 Census. Sherman is 79 miles due east from Bowie. He was a hostler for the railroad, a type of engineer that moves engines in and out of service facilities.

Bowie, Texas
Jan. 13 1909

Mr. F.A. Sweet
Dear Bro, We are having quite a spell now and I guess it is much worse up there than here.

   I told Ma Sunday that I had a letter from, and you said that your girl had quit school. you thot [sic] you knew why. Forest you ought to have seen ma's face, I couldn't keep from laughing at her.

   Forest, I saw Roy the other day, he said I could have Dick and Rubby to work for their feed. He said that he would write Cloud about Dick and he said he knew that Cloud would let me have him. I will go back to my indelible pencil. I believe it is the best on this paper.

   I want to know if you can lend me some money in a week or two. Now Forest when I say lend me money I mean it for I will pay you back as soon as I can and I feel sure that I can pay next fall, for I have already got a job. I didn't have to ask for it either, it was offered to me by Llass [?].

   My idea was to make a ? with pa and next fall take that job with Llass, and then hire a man to help in my place to pick cotton.

   I can make more running that engine than I can picking cotton is the reason I would take the job running it.

   I think Mr. Dobkins let me have groceries on fall time, but I will have to pay cash for feed.

   I will buy feed by the wagon load from the farm so I can get it cheaper. Roy said that he wanted me to feed lots of hay and course that is cheaper than corn.

   Forest let know at once and what or how much you can spare by the 25 of this month.

   Your Bro.

   Errett Sweet


Here are a few things I have gleaned from this letter and my research:

• Mr. Dobkins is James Dobkins, the grocer in Bowie. Probably a good man to be on good terms with.
• Dick and Rubby were perhaps a couple of horses. 
• Errett will eventually take that job running an engine, as the 1910 census shows he moves to Sherman, Texas, where he becomes a hostler. Sherman was served by five major railways.

Now, about that "girl" ...  As a young girl, Mary B. Fitts lived in Anadarko. I don't know how she and Forest met; but I do know that as of 1909, none of the Sweet family had met her yet. Forest and Mary maintained a "long distance" relationship as later letters will show that Forest moved around alot.

Grandma Sweet's name for Forest was "Sweet" and she always called him that, even after his death.