I was 15 years old, found her when I came home from school that day. There had been many attempts, and in 1965, no one knew how to treat it, medicines, shock treatments. She had had polio when she was only 3, and put in an institution till she recovered.3 yrs old and kept in isolation, she often told me she had one doll, but they took it when they cleaned the room and did not give it back. As I matured, and learned about ptsd, I am sure that time of her life took a lot of life out of her. She was loved by a good man, my Dad, who worked and tried to give her what he thought would make her happy, not material things, but security and he made sure she always could get out for rides in the country, going to movies and musicals, etc. She would snap out of it, then go the other way. Perhaps it was bipolar, who knows. I do know that whatever she was going through, she just could not go through it anymore, she wanted peace and rest. She was weary, God knows this, he does not judge the mentally destroyed, he took her in his arms, and there she rests.