How to (and how not to) tell a widow she's a widow

Many, many, MANY letters that I find every day are from chaplains, captains, and comrades telling wives and mothers that their soldiers have died. These letters have a wide range of appropriateness. Those from chaplains attempt to give comforting words quoting from the Bible or referencing heaven. Those from captains tell the widows and mothers what a wonderful soldier their loved one was-- in such exulting terms that it's easy to be a cynic, and stop believing that every soldier killed was the greatest soldier that company ever saw. Today, I have some extremes to share. One is a touching letter that every mother or widow should have gotten about the death of her son. One is an example of the depressing reality of the business of war. The last is an interesting example- a letter from a Confederate doctor, taking the time to politely address the enemy's wife to inform her of her husband's death. So, without further adieu:

How to appropriately tell someone their son/husband has died:

Transcription:

New Orleans

July 9^th 1863

To the Mother of Thomas Fox, late member of Co G 133 Reg’t N.Y. Vol,

Dear Madam,

I address you as a stranger, but be assured not with the feelings of such a one—for I write this with deep sympathy and with tears, and O if such could bring back him—must I say it—your son Thomas Fox, as this might would witness him as I oft have, but all these will not return your son to us. God has seen fit to take him from us.

            This day has brought to me the sad intelligence of his death, and now the sad and painful duty devolves upon me to communicate the same to you—I am in tears. I loved your boy. He was a true and willing soldier, always ready to do his duty. I never had occasion to find any fault with him. I felt long since him worthy of promotion, and should have done so had I been with my company (I have been detailed away since March 1^st 63). But Tommy is in truth promoted to a higher and better position than any I could give him. God in truth has taken him to himself where there is no sorrow, no war, no dying. But with all this to comfort us, to me this death is sorrowful. What shall I say will be this sad news to you and his relatives. May God bind up the broken hearts, and give grace to help in these sad hours of affliction is the prayer of one who loved your boy, and now is in deep distress. I have for many days been anxious to learn of the whereabouts of Thomas, having heard he was left sick at Opertusus. I heard he had been sent to this city and supposed he was in some convalescent camp, or hospital. I therefore sent my men to inquire but could not find out any thing about him. I visited the hospital myself but all to no avail. I could not learn of where he was. I visited algier a place opposite this city where there were some paroled prisoners, our own men, who had been taken at Breascher City on the 23^rd of June 1863, and there I learned of one who saw him die. That such was the case, that he died June 22^nd 1863, at 12 M. Could I have known he was there I should lost no time in going for him but it is now too late, his spirit has gone to God who are in his body. He’s at Breascher City, which now is in the hands of the Rebels, when we have again got possession of it I will visit the place where the body rests. His effects I cannot learn any thing about. I suppose they are all lost. Should I hear what has become of them I will get them and see that they are sent to you, if you wish, and indeed I should like very much to have you write if there is any thing I can do for you. Should you, direct to New Orleans, care of General Bowen Provost Marshal General. And now I will add to my deep feelings of sympathy those of my company who I know will be saddened with this intelligence. Tommy had the love of all who knew him, had he been my own son I think I could have loved him but littler more. We leave him in the hands of God. Amen.

I cannot write more.

Am truly with great sympathy,

C.W. Rudyard

Captain, Co. G 133 Regiment NY Vols

Conversely, how NOT to appropriately tell someone their world has come crashing down:

Form letter? Really, Union? Isn't the death of a soldier the one time when you shouldn't use a form letter with a rubber stamp at the bottom?

Finally, an interesting letter from the enemy:

Infirmary

12th Miss Regiment

Oct 28th 1864

Mary Westmoreland

Madam,

I regret to announce the death of your husband, George Westmoreland. He was wounded in the fight of yesterday, and fell into our hands. Both his legs were badly broken-- his right led was amputated and he died soon after. Every attention was paid him, but his wound was too severe for human endurance. Nothing valuable was found upon his person and this letter is written at his request. He was decently buried in a grave yard near Petersburg. I extend to you my sincere condolence. 

Most respectfully, 

R.S. Epperson

Hospital Steward, 12th Miss. Regt.

I'm fascinated by this last one. It's terse, but considerate. Consider our mortal enemies today. Would anyone out there write a letter to Osama bin Laden's family to politely tell them of his death? Is this Southern manners, or is it the 19th century way? It's not even a particularly nice letter, and yet I'm in awe of its common courtesy. 

There are so many examples I could share of such letters. Some are devastating, some are touching, and some are just laughable. But all of them remind me of what is quickly becoming the theme of this blog: every individual life lost in this war was significant, tragic, and real. These letters were to individuals who were, undoubtedly, devastated by the news of their loss, and not simply emotionally. Reading these files, you can't help but remember that widows and mothers often had no way of supporting themselves after their husbands and sons gave their lives for the Union. These letters told women that their lives would be forever marred by this tragedy, but they also told that they would be on their own, and that their lives from now on would be unfathomably difficult. I hate to repeat myself, but these letters are reminders to us of the terrible reality of war, of the realities of 19th century, and the unspeakable horrors of what happened in America from 1861-1865.