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I was utterly beside myself with anguish. She had been the clown of the family, the gay one, irrepressibly merry. Since she had been a little girl, I mothered her, helping her through the problems of adolescence, nagging her to study harder in college. Her life afterward had not been an easy one, in spite of her joy in her children, Peter, Bill and Cynthia. But somehow during the difficult times, her sunny disposition always returned. My only consolation lay in the thought that she had had one of the best times of her life when I took her to Europe not long before. I could see her eager, pixie little face when she went sightseeing. She always was the first to board a tourist bus so that she could sit near the driver and ask questions. She squeezed the last drop of interest and enjoyment out of the trip. At least I have the memory locked