(Untitled)

[eliza_hamilton]

I see yesterday was the 202nd anniversary of the interview between my husband and Aaron Burr. Today is the anniversary of his death. And so began 50 years of longing to be reunited with him again. I lived in Washington with my daughter Eliza in the final years of my life, and everyone always wanted to pay a visit to me, to hear my memories of the

Comments

[twicequeen]

Many things, but I managed to keep busy. First when my father died, I had to learn how to be a queen. When my sons died, well, the country needed a firm hand behind the scenes, now did it not?

As for when my husband died-I was far too busy enjoying the freedom to grieve oermuch.

[sic_et_non]

Well, my day was going significantly better before I happened on this little exercise, I must say.

When I was alive, I also suffered certain delusions about what the afterlife might entail, of which I have been recently and thoroughly disabused. At the time, I found them moderately comforting when dealing with the various disappointments of mortality etc., but I would not recommend them to those living now.

As for your question, I do not believe it productive to allow oneself to be imposed upon by the reanimated corpse of the past. Memories are persistent enough without deliberately inviting them into one's cell. The Queen is right to have kept busy, and I would do well myself to get back to work.

[_jemmy]

I was fortunate enough to go before Dolley. I heard she kept quite busy in Washington in my absense. I must say I was rather sad that I was the last of the founders unless you count Burr. A sneaking suspiscions tells me you won't. Oh well, whenever I see this glorious republic that Jefferson and I we built, I am reminded of all my friends. Because I was friends with all of the founders. I certainly don't recall any of them wanting me dead.

[malignedmaestro]

After Theresia died, I always thought of the first time I met her. I was giving music lessons to a countess who was studying at the same convent as my beloved.

I was so shy; it was weeks before I could walk up to her and introduce myself. Finally, we got to talking and (a few months later)I told her I loved her and asked if she shared my feelings.

"The very same affection," she replied. I often thought of that declaration later in my life, when I felt all alone.

Of course then there was the whole thing with her father dying and her guardian wanting to marry her and inquiring if I had enough money to take care of a woman of her social standing.

Oh, and the (utterly untrue) rumors about myself and Mlle. Cavalieri, of course.

[lady_parabola]

After my father died, I found great comfort in copying and editing his works for posterity. And fixing the odd mistake. The Library was a great source of solace to me, although I found it greatly disconcerting that it didn't survive all that much longer than I did.