This beautiful tribute
was written by
Authur Finn Bowen
following the death
of his wife,
Isabelle Carew Woodward
in 1918.


Let us begin with the beginning - tho the close of an earthly career, the commencement of a celestial life. These recollections of a life so dear to the writer and the children are to keep fresh in memory the many beautiful traits of character of sweet unselfishness, of pure mother love - a little woman who was a friend, sweet heart - wife, mother, comrade, a good pardner and a tried and true counsellor = One made to love and to be loved, whose chief pleasure was in sharing her joys with others = So capable and competent - Her little hands went with equal delight from heavy menial toil to the fashioning of the daintiest work ever made by hands. Her first thoughts, always, were for her husband, always her sweet heart, and the children. Making friends easily, she loved and was loved by her friends. Nothing was too good for them. She always had them in mind. She loved pretty things - dainty and sweet, without ostentation. She chose these as she did her friends, with care, judgement and discrimination. A word of commendation, the knowledge that her effort was appreciated was the only reward expected. A smile, a tender word, the pressure of the hand, a kiss and her joy and pleasure were complete. From the lowliest to the highest, those who knew her loved and admired her and came to her for advice and help and it pleased her so much to help. Her life was sacrificed that others might live.

On Tuesday, November the twelfth, 1918 at four o'clock in the evening we laid our sweetheart, wife and mother away in her last earthly resting place. There was a chill in the air and a rawness in the wind. Harsh dry clouds obscured the afternoon sun, just as there was chill and rawness and desolation in our hearts. She was such a brave little woman, so true and unselfish. These recollections shall ever be a beautiful monument and tribute to her memory. The flowers from many friends were beautiful. The music and songs were appropriate. Mrs. Horace Dowell and the Senior Class from Peace Institute had charge of it. "Asleep in Jesus" and "Abide with Me" were two of the selections. These had been selected by her years before, before she became very dearly beloved wife, to be sung at the grave of her sister. All the funeral ceremonies were at the grave. The epidemic of influenza necessitated the precaution.

Dr. McWhorter White and the Reve. Dr. Mike Bradshaw, the first a Presbyterian and the Minister of her church and the second a Methodist and the minister of my church conducted the services. The grave is in the lot we selected some three years ago and to which had been transferred the remains of my mother and sister. The grave is so placed that the monument goes to the head of it and my grave will be to the right of hers.

Here let the remains of my little girl, forever, sleep in peace. Her soul, her beautiful spirit will live with us forever more and will welcome us to that supernal shore. And when the call comes, may we be like her, ready and unafraid.

"And so Good-by, Good-by, dear heart! strong, tender and true. Good-by until for us the morning break and these shadows fly away."

"Warm summer sun shine kindly here;
Warm southern wind blow softly here;
Green sod above lie light, lie light -
Good night, dear heart, good night, good night."

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