For one reason only she would have it delayed, that her husband might not have to take the rest of his journey alone. This wish was not fulfilled, for the transition came quickly. She was spared what would have been difficult for one with her independent spirit—a long time of physical dependence on others. On October 9 she left Boston with her husband for Colorado. A slight cold which she had seemed better on reaching Chicago, but on arriving home it increased, and though she tried to ignore it for a day or two, she was obliged to call her physician. It soon proved very serious; double pneumonia developed rapidly, and on the 18th, with her husband and all her children around her, she passed peacefully and without pain into the fuller life.
A brief service was held in the First Congregational Church of Colorado Springs on the afternoon of the following day, and in the evening Mr. Bemis and all his family left for the east with the body which, on October 23, was laid in the Newton Cemetery beside those of her two children. The funeral was held at two o'clock on the afternoon of that day in the chapel of the Newton Cemetery. Friends and relatives from many directions were gathered there, and the chancel was filled with flowers sent from far and near.
It was one of New England's most glorious autumn days. Though there was no wind, the bright leaves fell in abundance quietly and steadily in the warm sunshine.
The service was conducted by the Rev. James B. Gregg, D.D., for over thirty years a personal friend of the family, and bound to Mr. and Mrs. Bemis by a very close and tender tie in the marriage of their son to his daughter Faith. He was also their pastor in Colorado Springs for twenty-seven years. The service was very simple, consisting only of wisely chosen selections from the Bible, full of tenderness and of joy and faith in the eternal, followed by an uplifting and strengthening prayer that Dr. Gregg had written for that special service.
This brief sketch of one into whose life came far more than the ordinary measure of happiness, and who had the heart and the will to bring all the happiness she could to others, is all too inadequate; the only justification for its existence lies in the hope that it may, in some degree, suggest to her children's children and to those who come after them, the personality that was so dear and so human to those who knew her, so unselfish and so thoughtful for others, so mindful of the fact that this life of ours is only a stewardship.