August 3, 1924. My big day. Everything around me is perfect, not one hair out of place. I stand alone, staring ahead looking at the girl in the mirror, feeling that something is missing. But, I already know something is missing, my parents. The longing feeling I have for them to be here, with me, is overbearing. The distraught feeling also isn’t helping with the nervousness I feel in the pit of my stomach. My sister, Camille, walks in and gives me a hug. Jeremy comes in and takes hold of my arm so I know it’s almost time to go. My sister and brother know how I feel about everything, and as I look at the both of them, I see excitement and sorrow in their eyes. They both know I read my diary last night. With unspoken words, we start walking, and the unbearable pressure never leaves my chest as I think about the events just six years ago.

March 31, 1918
It’s been 20 days since the first cases of this new illness have been reported (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). Seeing as Kansas is only one state over, everybody is scrambling around trying to get their necessities so they have less chance of becoming ill. I was walking down the road today and heard the all too familiar rhyme, “I had a little bird, and it’s name was Enza, I opened the window, and in-flew-Enza,” as little girls jumped rope to it (James F. Armstrong, 2001). It’s not comforting at all and I’m praying that the illness doesn’t come this way.

April 19, 1918

Cases keep getting worse. Different states keep getting hit with the illness and a rising amount of people have been killed by it. I’m worried that it’s going to come this way and I’m still praying that nobody I know will be affected by this.

Father also hasn’t sent a letter since the first cases of the illness have been popping up. He’s stationed at a naval base is Philadelphia (James F. Armstrong, 2001). Mother heard that the illness is affecting a lot of bases around the states and I’m starting to worry. I’m sure he’s just been busy since the illness has been going around, but I wish he would just let us know he’s okay. I can also tell Mother feels the same. She hasn’t eaten anything for the past two days and I’m worried for her.

May 6, 1918

The illness still hasn’t spread to Missouri from what I’ve heard. I’m very happy it hasn’t, but I can’t shake the feeling it’s on it’s way. Everyday, the rhyme the little girl’s jump rope to, plays over and over in my head.

Father has finally sent a letter. We received it on April 24th, letting us know that he’s okay and the illness hasn’t hit his base yet. After that, Mother started eating again and acting normal. My two younger siblings have been playing with their friends outside a lot. I don’t think they even understand what’s happening in different states around us.

June 28, 1918

Everything is still going well for us. Nobody is sick and I still haven’t heard of any cases in Missouri. Hopefully it will just skip over our state even though I have a feeling it won’t.

Father is still fine also. We received another letter from him just a few days ago. He again said that nobody on base had gotten ill, which I’m thankful for.

We also received a letter from my Mother’s cousins in Wisconsin. The illness hasn’t hit there either (“The Great Pandemic Wisconsin,” n.d.). They did write that two of their friends have passed away. Their base was in Fort Riley, Kansas and that was the first place in the United States to be hit (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). Mother was relieved to receive the letter. To me, it only made the illness more surreal.

July 16,1918

Still, nothing has happened. We’ve been continuing with our everyday life as usual. Nobody has been pronounced ill around the state, but it has been spreading to other states. Each passing month just keeps adding to my worry. I feel as though one night the illness is just going to creep in and steal someone close to me away from life. I can’t break the feeling.

We haven’t gotten a letter from father either. I can tell mother is starting to get worried again. Thankfully, she is still eating this time. I can tell the kids are becoming worried as well. They don’t make direct eye contact with Mother and they’ve slept in my bed, with me, the past few nights.

August 26, 1918

Apparently, the “second wave” of the illness is sweeping through the states. In Boston, thousands of people have passed away because of it(Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). A woman at church told me that this time it’s more contagious and more deadly than the first wave. They even had to set up extra tents for patients on the hospital grounds because they had no room left inside of the hospital. I later heard that they had to ask for a lot of volunteers. A lot of woman signed up risking their own lives in the process (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). Also, morgues started stacking bodies like wood in the corridors because they didn’t have enough room for them(Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). I feel bad for the families of those people.
We still haven’t received a letter from father. Mother has been going crazy and the kids have been trying to stay away as much as possible. At night we can hear her in her bedroom crying and she hasn’t been making meals so I’ve been having to do it. She cleans almost all day and then goes to bed and it’s starting to worry me. The little ones ask me what’s happening and I always tell them, everything’s going to be okay.

September 10, 1918
We received a letter from father just a few days ago. Still nothing is going on at the base (James F. Armstrong, 2001) and they’ve been trying to help as many people as they can. Mom is, again, back to her normal self which I’m thankful for. Things are still quiet in our town and the news of the illness passing around is starting to die down. Maybe it passed us?


September 24, 1918
The naval and shipyard base in Philadelphia has been hit with the illness. On September 19, 600 sailors got symptoms and became ill (James F. Armstrong. 2001). Mother hasn’t been able to stop crying because we haven’t found out if father is in the 1,700 that have died since. I really hope he is not. I’m trying to be strong for the kids, but they know something is wrong. I guess, until we hear something, I’m going to have to do all of the housework.

October 2,1918
We finally have gotten the news none of us wanted to hear. We received a letter in the mail telling us that father was one of the men who passed away from the illness. I haven’t seen mother at all since we have received the letter and the kids don’t understand what’s happening. They’re only 9 and 7. I spent all day with them trying to reassure them, but I have no idea how long I have until I break down.
After I put them to bed, I went to my room and the last thought running through my head as I fell asleep was, rest in peace Father.

October 14,1918
If things weren’t already bad enough, the state of Missouri now has the illness spreading. On the 11th, state officials reported the illness (“The Great Pandemic Missouri,” n.d.). I really hope it doesn’t come this way.

October 29,1918
Three thousand seven hundred and sixty five cases have been reported throughout the state and 90 people have been pronounced dead (“The Great Pandemic Missouri,” n.d.). Nobody in our area has been hit by this yet. On October 17th, The Kansas City Star announced that "A DRASTIC BAN IS ON." Which banned sneezing, coughing, and spitting in public areas. Also, schools, churches, and theatres have all been closed. Not more than 25 people can be in a store at one time and all gatherings including dances, weddings, funerals, and parties have been banned (“The Great Pandemic Missouri,” n.d.).

I really wish this wouldn’t be happening. Even after we received the news about Father, I still feel like something big is going to happen and it’s not going to be good.

November 17,1918

The illness is still making its way around the state. There have been at least four cases in my town and two of the people I knew very well. Everybody in my family is still doing well. We haven’t gone outside at all but I’m going to have to make a run quick because we’re running out of things we need.

Mother is still mourning Father’s death. I don’t blame her. Every night, before I go to sleep, I send up a quick prayer and ask him to send Mother a sign that he’s okay. She’s been eating one meal a day so I am starting to worry about her but there isn’t anything that I can do. I can just pray that she starts to get better.

December 25, 1918

Today is Christmas. The kids are running around the house excited. They know they won’t be getting much, but they know I got them a few things.

Mother is still moping around. I’ve been doing all of her usual duties which I don’t mind. I like helping her. She seems a little white today though. I really hope she’s okay.

December 29,1918 (9:38 A.M.)

Mother is very ill and it’s not good. She’s been in bed all day and she has a very bad fever (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). I told the kids not to go in by her because I don’t want them becoming ill. She’s starting to turn a bluish color (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014) and I’m really starting to worry. I tried to get her to eat something this morning but she was coughing too much.

December 29, 1918 (1:23 P.M.)
Mother hasn’t gotten better at all. In fact, she’s way worse. Her stomach really hurts her because she can’t stop coughing and she just started coughing up a foamy, red liquid (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014). The problem is, I think it’s blood.



December 29, 1918 (2:06 P.M.)
The foamy, red liquid is now also coming out of Mother’s nose. She has also vomited (Jennifer Rosenberg, 2014) up blood two times now and I know it’s not good. I sent the kids to the neighbors house after asking if it was okay because I didn’t want them to see this. Now it’s just me and my Mother.


December 29,1918 (2:15 P.M.)
“Dear God,
Please help Mother get better. If she passes a way I don’t know what I’m going to do. Im only 17. I can’t take care of two children on my own and still have money. Please, help her get through this. I’m begging you.


Amen.”


December 29, 1918 (3:46 P.M.)


Mother is now in a better place. I don’t know what to think right now.


January 3, 1919
Telling little children that both their Mother and Father are dead is always hard. They don’t understand what it means but they know they’ll never be able to see their parents again. The flu is still in the town and 17 people have now passed away from it in the town I live in. My brother, sister, and I haven’t gotten any symptoms and I’m hoping that death won’t take anymore family members.



January 27, 1919
I decided to send a letter back to my Mother's cousins telling them the news and I also asked how things are going for them. They’ve already sent a letter back. It reads:
“ Louisa, I am so sorry to hear about your parents. It’s so tragic that not only one, but both, have passed away. You are a very strong, independent women though and we know you can handle this by yourself. If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.


As for us, we are doing okay. The flu was announced in Wisconsin on October 18th, and the body count kept rising from there. In Milwaukee alone, there were just under 5,000 cases and slightly over 200 deaths by October 30th (“The Great Pandemic Wisconsin,” n.d.). Things were being thrown around but it seems to be dying down now. All of our relatives up here have been okay and we all hope it stays that way.
We all love you guys, and like I said before, if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask.
Love, Michael and Rosy.”
After reading it, I felt better because I now know I still have people there for me.

March 16,1919
Things have gone a little bit back to normal. We can now go out more even though I still don’t allow the kids to go to the theatre or any other public place for entertainment. I’ve been taking care of them well and I’m still receiving money because of my Father’s job. It’s been hard but I’m learning more and more each day.
I still miss Mother and Father more than anybody will ever know and I can only pray that they’re together and nothing else will happen to my family.

June 31, 1919

The illness has finally disappeared within Missouri. It’s odd how things come and go like that. I’ll never understand it. (“The Great Pandemic Missouri,” n.d.)

Now, as I walk down the aisle, I will finally be able to come to terms with everything. My brother and sister are here with me and the man I love is standing at the end waiting to take my hand and make me the happiest women ever, considering the circumstances.
After I read the diary, I put it in a box and put it in my closet. The memories are always in my head so I don’t need to read that anymore. It’s time for me to make my own story.