June 16, 1959, 6:05 (a.m.)
I take a pencil in hand for the first time in many months.
The lead point quivers inside the lines of this old woman's diary,
but I must write this as you sleep, my sweet husband,
so as not to miss a single thought.
I promised myself
this morning would be about us as you awake.
Face to face beneath the silks,
listening to the bluebirds sing outside our window.
How you loved those mornings.
I give prayer that today you
recognize me, if for only a moment.
There is so much I am desperate to tell you aloud.
Last night my tears fell on a wistful smile,
as I thought...what a pair we make.
You, leaving this stint of life in need of mind.
My--leaving in need of body.
How fitting an entry for this old woman's diary.
I will work tirelessly to make today our day,
my sweet husband.
Should this solitary disease still grip your memories,
I will remind you of our every moment--in every day--of every year.
Oh, my sweet husband, you didn't awaken this morning,
but I watched you visit the bluebirds at the tree outside our window.
I waved sheepishly when you turned to me.
You nodded and smiled-that smile.
I knew then-
you had already found our brighter place--our place for two.
Yes, I will meet you there, my sweet husband.
I know you will remember me there.
