The letter written before her death by fellow first class passenger Rose, who survived the Titanic tragedy

The letter written before her death by fellow first class passenger Rose, who survived the Titanic tragedy,
'In my seventeen years of traveling around the world, I can hardly recall any other tragic experience like that, even though I searched and searched for memories again and again. I think that if there are a few hours in my eighty-three years of life that I will never forget, this is it.
In Paris, when I got to know Mrs. Martha Stone from my friend who was an interpreter, I was looking for a friend who would be able to walk with her to the country ports and chat with her, who would be able to see the world and be as happy as she was. Being the widow of the owner of the famous Bell C telephone company, she was a kind woman, so I accepted without a second thought.
We explored Europe with the ultimate goal of immigrating to the United States, which was my ultimate life hope. After a few years of wandering from country to country, when we got the chill of 1912, we saw Egypt and beyond, we saw Jerusalem in the middle of the Holy Land, and then we reached Paris and then London with a leisurely indifference.
When I first saw the colossus between them on the fateful morning of April 12th, when the Titanic was docked in Southampton, I realized that their story that man was indeed surpassing God could be true. In London, Mrs. Stone, who was to mark a sumptuous end to the tour, had booked first-class seats, and if she wanted grandeur, there was no mistake in that choice, and one conclusion was sufficient for me to conclude.
I saw a man in a white uniform (later discovered to be Captain Smith) with a beard that had grown white with maturity and struggled to keep up with his handsome hair, looking down at us from the bow of the ship. I know I cannot complete this article without saying that it has haunted me and exhausted me.
Needless to say how the time passed by on board the ship. If there has been anything but celebrations, festivals, and royal pleasures, it has often been evenings of gatherings, rich in rich clothes and jewels, weighted down in opulence and prosperity, and nights of gentlemen's acquisitions spent in smoke, alcohol, and boring card games. I think so.
Among us in the first class were seven or eight couples who went to America for their honeymoon, and most of them met and got to know us at a dinner or a night dance in the big cities of Europe, and some of them were friends who stayed with us throughout the long trip to Egypt. It would make you think the world is small in first class. At that time, I also thought like that, but I am at the end of my life, and I think that not only the classes but the whole world is a small one.
April 14th As the sun was setting, the usual evening of music on deck was coming to an end, and I think it must have been about eleven o'clock when I retired to my room for something extra, owing to the unbearable cold. Mrs. Stone was asleep, thinking goodbye to the tiring day, so I went back to the deck and went to bed.
I think forty-five minutes at most. I was thrown from the bed and fell to the ground with a loud thump and a very sudden heart-stopping thump, unable to find the world around me. The moment I regained consciousness, or the moment I was encouraged enough to think that I was regaining consciousness, I ran to Mrs. Stone. Thank God she was safe.
I was cautious enough to open the door of our room and investigate after hearing a loud sound like a water pipe bursting. I look back and think at this moment that I have often made stupid decisions in life because it is nothing but the writing of fate. Somehow the Devil put a life jacket on Mrs. Stone in the same boat, and I wrapped it over my nightgown and ran to find the ship's deck.
The ship's deck was a mess, and after a long time passed indecisively, we saw the boats pile up one after another at the ends of the ship. Something incredible has happened to cause the ship to abandon ship. In truth, I was not sure what had happened at that time and what was happening now, but a burning thought had taught me that a great calamity had occurred, warming my heart, which was frozen in cold and fear, and making my whole body tremble and paralyze me.
Mrs. Stone was unbelievably obstinate that the jewels should be brought with them if they left the ships, so I had no choice but to turn back to take them. But fate again showed me the way and of course I forgot the way. By the time I had gone too far in the wrong direction and given up trying to retrieve Manjusa in fear, Mrs. Stone was gone by the time I returned to the ship's deck. If I had gone in the right direction and reached the room, it would probably have been my last trip.
The women and children boarded the boats first, and there a wife who had lived together for fifty years said that she could not board the boat without her husband and was filling with water with him and people were turning the helm, but I saw with a definite purpose that was clear to the end of the room. A newly wedded couple approaches the altar with a kind of reverent love.

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