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Fair warning, these passages are as depressed as I’ve ever seen John, but in that darkness comes incredible wisdom. If I could name this piece, I would call it, “My Little Lamp Girl.”

“10:45 P.M. October 1^st,

Another Sat. night and one that is a little changed from those of the regular routine. We did not go to the movie tonight, it has been raining regular torrents since six o’clock or so and just now it seems to have settled down to a steady and slow downfall. Missing the show is no special disappointment, it is only that the routine of living has been interrupted and causes us to change our plans for the evening. To me it has been a few more hours of sleeping; I could not seem to stay awake even to read. In days gone by the rain meant more hours of peaceful rest with my little sweetheart close beside me now the filling of the seemingly extra moments is only an added burden. Tomorrow may be a hard trip to Ft. Worth, and it may be my last, man never knows, but I shall go. I guess I feel well enough, I hardly know anymore. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:00 P.M.”

“11:55 P.M. October 2^nd,

Very soon it will be Monday. I do not seem very tired tonight. The drive to Ft. Worth was very pleasant as the rain stopped this morning and the sun has been shining. Today I could only take her some flowers and the grass and the roses did not need water. All were so fresh and pretty. Three of the little rose bushes have buds on them and will perhaps be in bloom next Sunday. How nice that will be to see them in bloom. How odd are the illusions of man; tonight as I placed the little rosebud in the arms of my boudoir lamp, her lamp it was, the little lady seemed to look at me and smile; if only she might talk as well. Not always does she smile, or so it seems. It is only what we make of life that life seems to us. Could I but hold my little dream girl in my arms tonight. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 12:10 P.M.”

(Sally here: I LOVE that passage about the boudoir lamp. Wish I had a photo of what she, our “little lady”, looked like. And I might have already said this but if I’m ever in Texas, I must go visit her gravesite (for many reasons of course) but to see if the rosebushes are still there)

“10:00 P.M. October 3^rd,

Late in going to bed last night, tonight I am rather sleepy but not so very tired and a bath has refreshed me some since coming from work and yet I am growing old very fast. To one in the glory of life, old age seems to be a stage of life one wants to delay as long as possible. To me it seems only a nearness approaching to the final goal, if such death might be called, which we must all reach some day. My aging only is very slow and I am impatient. Why, I do not know. To some it might be interpreted as an unbounded faith in the life eternal; for me I can only say I am only hopeful. We know nothing of what death holds until it is ours. I would like to ride with the moon tonight. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:15 P.M.”

“10:25 P.M. October 4^th,

Another day gone by. Another evening with the now half moon shining peacefully from a clear sky. A mute and unerring symbol of powers beyond the incomprehension of man. How small we are in the vast magnitude of space comprising the heavens above us. We see the moon and the stars (I love them too) yet in our efforts to know more of them, their place and purpose in the universe, we can only turn to our imaginations; our superstitions and our sentimentality. Such is the life of man, the noblest of all animals. We find relief in religion, its promises and hopes, but hold not the knowledge of its final reward, many things man does not know. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:45 P.M.”

“10:35 P.M. October 5^th,

Sometimes man comes to the end of a winding trail and finds nothing, no other way seems to beckon, and we are lost. This evening that seems to be my mood. I find no assurance of further joy in living, of other trails to seek. I do not even know why I put my thoughts on paper. Who will ever stop to read them? There is no answer to the problem of life herein. No guide for a winding trail. My thoughts and my life cannot be lived by another. All things change. Mans greatest glory comes thru his efforts to make his life fit into that of his mate. When that is no longer possible he becomes as chaff blown by the winds of time. I am tired. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 10:55 P.M.”

(Sally here: Written by me back in 2011 and it still applies to what I’m thinking here in 2026. This could be, to me, one of his most profound entries; and there are many. When he writes…“I do not even know why I put my thoughts on paper. Who will ever stop to read them” it just seemed so surreal. Then when he says that his life becomes like “Chaff blown by the winds of time” I had to sit back and take that all in. My mind envisioned acres and acres of corn stalks spreading their dry seed casings (chaff) across miles and miles of farm land and all of this done by “the winds of time.” You are amazing John.)

“11:30 P.M. October 6^th,

Did not realize it was time I should be in bed; not that I guard against any weakening long hours of work might cause, but so long as I am working for others I must keep fit. I worked a while out in the back yard with the moon watching silently from above, and then came inside to read some more of Victor Hugo’s works; to me he seems to have possessed a superhuman mind; no other writer can so clearly describe the pinnacles reached by the efforts of man, and as well the most foul and lowly actions of the human race. A fight won against the wrath of an ocean storm; a flight from the clutches of power thru the sewers of Paris, to him one is as simply described as the other. I hope I may sleep well tonight. Perhaps I do not deserve peaceful slumbers. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:45 P.M.”

“10:35 P.M. October 7^th,

The last few waking moments before I go to bed, they at least are mine. Tonight I sit alone by the fire burning low; the cool evening makes it welcome. My thoughts go always to the days gone by and the ever present question of why life must be so. Perhaps I know and perhaps I do not. Life is only what we make it, there are no true standards by which it is governed; each must find his own salvation. Saint or sinner, we must each come to the great adventure which brings a realization of our meager powers and only hope for what death holds. Hugo says, “Knowledge is a weight added to our conscience.” And so one who has the simple faith searches not for an answer beyond the comprehension of man; to them God governs all. I do not believe that way and so I suffer on. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:00 P.M.”

“11:20 P.M. October 8^th,

Very soon now and Sat. will have passed on to Sunday morning. I am not tired. I am not sleepy tho I shall perhaps soon be asleep. I like to just sit and think of life, of eternity, of ages past, of future generations to come, of days that can never return, of deeds that can never be undone = in it all I can find no answer; I am bitter; I am very odd indeed and perhaps so much the nearer to further troubles to blacken my soul the more. There can be no glorification in our efforts to cleanse life of its fatal errors. The damage once done is everlasting. Only mans tenderness prompts the thought of saving a human soul. Tomorrow I shall see her roses in bloom. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:35 P.M.”

(Sally here: What stuck out to me the most in this passage was the “darkness” of his words in the entire passage; the depth of his darkness but then at the end he says, “Tomorrow I shall see her roses in bloom.” Such a comparison.)

“11:05 P.M. October 9^th,

Another Sunday will soon be gone. I so often wonder when they will be no more. It is the one day of the week which brings desire into my life again and I answer the urge. When Sunday has passed and I have been to Greenwood and am home again, I care not for what the days of the remainder of the week may bring. Only Sunday seems to be prized. Today those of her little rose bushes were in bloom; how pretty they are. How I shall hate to see them drop their foliage and their blossoms when frost comes, but I cannot protect them from the cold, unless it were possible that my loving care and fondness for them would make them immune from the cold. I hope that Daddy Dale does not suffer too much. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:20 P.M.”

“9:40 P.M. October 10^th,

It is not yet late but my eyes will not stay open any longer; even for the writings of Hugo. So much we criticize of life today and not all of it is without justice, yet we seem to have rounded our existence on earth into one much better than that of the sixteenth century. To me it seems better; not so much from the religious standpoint, rather to its loss. But we are better because of the deeper realization of the equality of mankind. We are not all on the same level socially, or otherwise, and never can be by reason of heredity and nature whose laws are not governed by man. But we are better because we do not restrict the efforts of humanity. Only so much as is necessary to protect our belief of what is good; in this we are very often wrong and have yet to reach greater good. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:00 P.M.”

“10:20 P.M. October 11^th,

(He’s drawn a diamond shape around this date, but not sure why). I have nothing to say tonight. Perhaps I might write a great deal but it would not be worth the effort. I am glad the day is gone. I hope it will not return. Saw the mass of humanity at the fair this evening. Now I am home again. I only wonder what tomorrow will bring. I have no thought of days to come. I do not want them. I am only so much the coward or I might close the mess I have made of life. It is always unbearable yet I must bear it. I am already crazy; there is nothing left. Not the least bit of good in me yet it may be worse. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”

(Written by me in 2013)

Now I think I know why he marked this date. He is so much more depressed then usual. Poor poor John. I can say to him, it will get better. It’s been about 6 ½ years now since my sweet husband was killed. It has gotten better than it was during those many month right after he died. Not as good as it was when he was here of course, but better than the deep intense days of grief. And yes, oh so changed…..

(Written by me in 2026, today, April 8th)

As of today it’s been over 18 years since my husband passed away. About two weeks ago I drove from my home here in Washington State to Oregon where I used to live. I have a storage unit there that I cleaned out and we moved it all up here (to a new storage unit of course). I didn’t realize that I had kept so many things of my Kevin’s, my husband. The thing that really sent me whirling and through a flood of tears was when I opened up his the bin that contained his work bag, the one he had on the job site when he was killed. It was time for me to get rid of that, finally. But I did find his softball bag full of equipment. Two of his softballs went to my grandchildren. Then a large box of memories went to one of my daughters. His softball bag will go to his family in Nebraska and his fishing bag to one of my sons. I still have items of his in my storage unit here, always will. Time does make things easier. And to you John, when you say above, ” I only wonder what tomorrow will bring. I have no thought of days to come. I do not want them,” I have your later diaries, of your days to come, and you began to heal and that makes me happy.

“9:40 P.M. October 12^th,

Experience. What a thorough teacher; its lessons are not forgotten soon. Tonight I am sleepy and can hardly keep my eyes open. Last night I could not go to sleep. Tonight I feel as if, once asleep, I need never waken again; such is the agony of the soul. It seeks eternal rest but finds it not. Oh! God! Why must life be so! Take it from me while there yet remains some of the goodness of my being. Some of the charm that was precious to her, my love shall always be for her, but now I know not if it is no longer accepted or desired. I am slowly going crazy. I am sorry. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:50 P.M.”

(Sally here: “I am slowly going crazy”…. all I can say is wow.)

“10:35 P.M. October 14^th,

How relentlessly time goes on. It seems that it will never end. For what must remain among the living? One day my hopes ride with the moon and the stars and I am far above the mere urge of human nature, or the living and tomorrow brings the deepest blackness of despair and I find myself dashed among the rocks of man’s foulest thoughts or actions. My head sinks on my chest and I am lost. I no longer have hope for my soul. Life’s greatest lesson, however wrong it may be, seems only that life demands the living and death must console the dead. The spirit and love of those gone before must always hover near but human eyes cannot see nor ears cannot hear. My thoughts roam wildly, none bringing content, so I must be crazy. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:55 P.M.”

“11:10 P.M. October 15^th,

Sat nights bring thoughts of the morrow, or of what the week has been. Of what has been I do not wish to think, of what tomorrow holds I am only anxious to know. I want to go to Greenwood, only tomorrow will prove if I have gone. And why do I go? I cannot answer. Such greatness and wisdom as was hers, such an idiot am I. Slowly, yes ever so slowly, I am losing strength, both mentally and physically; it is only the torture of my fate, my just reward. Be it so. I am powerless to change it. Why must I try to control my fate? How silly man is much less than he tries to believe. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:20 P.M.”

“10:25 P.M. October 16^th,

Home again. A very beautiful day and I have been to Greenwood. Her roses still in bloom. How pretty they are. I could only water them. Many miles I have traveled to care for them, perhaps many more shall I go. Life is always a battle, a fight one might say, and this evening comes the thought that I have never won a fight in my life. Such is cowardice. The miracle is that I still live. I am not yet fit for the great adventure. The everlasting quietude, the rest, I must live long and suffer much. My own actions alone are responsible, none other. I wonder if there can be such a thing as forever? There seems nothing now. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:40 P.M.”

“9:25 P.M. October 17^th,

It is not yet late, so I must be in bed very soon. My cold still bothers me some tho it is nearly gone; tonight my head has funny pains again and my neck is a little stiff. I am extremely nervous. I’ve been resting since eating supper, short naps and now I am very tired and sleepy. I am always expecting some thing. I know not what. It seems that life is always like a spring, being wound tighter and tighter and never allowed to release its power. Some day it reaches the limit. I am not yet there; I am still partially in control but I have no governor just an infernal machine. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:40 P.M.”

(Written by me in 2013)

Sally Here: Just a passing thought. Last night I was at a camp out with all my family which was being held at my sister’s house. I was in such a hurry that I turned quickly in the patio and ran right into their sliding glass door. Banged up my face pretty bad. Dummy me. As I was walking back to the bed room, wet towel and ice to my face and family members there to help me, I started to cry and told my sister, how I wish my husband was here to comfort me. So very difficult being a widow. No matter how much time has passed since the death of a loved one, there always seems to be something you’re without. Right John?

“10:40 P.M. October 18^th,

Slowly the days go by. Why should I want them to hurry? Why should I complain of time? Time is everlasting; my part of it is the great disappointment. One should not be discontent and complaining. Perhaps I do not complain a great deal because I know not to whom I might carry my complaint and receive an adjustment of its cause. I have only myself for counsel; nothing yet remaining of life seems fit to give me an answer, tho I find no greatness within me, so I am content to keep searching. Dear little dream girl who consoled my anxious slumberland last night. I wish that you might always make it so restful. Forever we had planned, give me strength to keep it so. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:55 P.M.”

“10:45 P.M. October 19^th,

The disappointments and discouragements of life come to us all. This magnitude is only as one sees them for ones self. So long as the great calamities which occur quite often remain a fair distance from us we are not so much impressed by these many things which man cannot understand and never will; only when we have brought home to our own little realm something to change our course in life, and our efforts, then we begin to think of what life really is and how we might have made it different. Many things we can control but there will always come that which we may fight for, and would die for, but cannot have. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:05 P.M.”

”10:20 P.M. October 20^th,

So often I have written that there remains nothing in life sufficiently strong to awaken the urge to be up and doing; with always some goal ahead to try and reach. How true that is; I find nothing remaining that satisfies my desires and yet how utterly false it is; my efforts now seem greater than ever, because I have lost all and my only goal is to regain it. How that may be done I do not know. Through some miracles which I might do? Hardly. I do not even believe the miracles of Christ in their entirety. Through God, and by zealously and faithfully worshiping Him? Perhaps, but tis not a certainty, else there would be only one form of worship. By striving to always be a little better each day? It can do no harm. Truthfully, there remains only hope. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:40 P.M.”

(Written by me in 2013)

I have to tell you about my “Pitiful Widows Day.” And I don’t mean that title as a “feel sorry for me” or “distressing” but more in the funny sense of pitiful, as I been laughing about it ever since. So, my husband died about 7 years ago,
in 2008, for those of you who don’t know. I have not dated since and I mostly just go places with my children and grandchildren. I have traveled quite a bit but mostly by myself. My children always tease me saying I need to get out of my regular routine and if anything at least switch up my coffee shops where I do my studies. So this last Labor Day weekend I said to heck with it, I’m going to get all dressed up, go downtown 3rd Street here in my hometown (which is usually a hot spot) and “switch it up” and go study at a cute little coffee shop there. The first one I tried told me they were closing early because of Labor Day. I didn’t let that stop me (as I had a mission you know) and went on to the next. This one was open but because of the holiday I was the only one in there. And as I sat by the window I watched all the happy couples go by who were holding hands assuming they were off to a romantic dinner. I did my studies and said to heck with it I’m heading home back to my happy couch. As I was walking to my car I heard someone behind me honking and yelling and as I turned to wave (of course thinking it was someone I knew) they were actually honking and yelling at the young “just married” couple strolling down the other side of the street in their wedding clothes. So I said forget this, went to my favorite grocery store, bought me a nice steak, took it home, fixed dinner and sat on the couch to watch what ever popped on to my TV. As soon as I turned it on, it was the show “Overboard” with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. And at the end when they jump off the boats and swim towards each other yelling “Arturo” and “Katarina” I just sat and cried.” That’s my pitiful Widow’s day; one I’m still laughing about.

(Written by me in 2026)

There’s another saying in “Overboard” that I use all the time, which fits perfectly in life. I’ts also at the end when Goldie Hawn jumps overboard to swim to Kurt Russell. The young sailor on the boat, with his megaphone, says, “It’s a hell of a day at sea sir!”

There’s another saying in “Overboard” that I use all the time, which fits perfectly in life. It’s also at the end when Goldie Hawn jumps overboard to swim to Kurt Russell. The young sailer, with his megaphone, says, “It’s a hell of a day at sea sir.” Love that.

“10:15 P.M. October 21^st,

This has been a busy day; and I am thankful for it. Soon I shall be asleep, the hours of rest when we are not conscious of what takes place around us, only the waking moments are ours to govern. If the day has brought that which brings content to our souls we rest more easily and more peacefully; if it has been lived as our conscious directs we are troubled not whether tomorrows sun will be ours to enjoy. For we have done our best and man can do no more. It seems incredible to me that man can do harm to others in all his actions of the day and then pass on to slumber land with no feeling of remorse or doubt in his heart. It seems many do. Life is our own to live and cannot be changed in a day. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 10:30 P.M.”

“11:40 P.M. October 22^nd,

Another Sat and Sunday gone. Did not get to write last night. So much has happened since Friday it seems. So much different from the daily routine and tomorrow I shall be feeling tired and perhaps a little badly. I cannot stand the strain of the unusual without feeling weaker. I am glad it is so. Jack and Verte and the boys were in Ft. Worth yesterday leaving for home this morning. We were with them yesterday evening and this morning. So glad they come down, if only for such a short visit. How the boys have grown and how dear Jackie seems, as he always did. Now they are gone. I wonder when I shall see them again? And I have been to Greenwood to water her little roses, one was still in bloom. It seems I shall always go. I cannot give her up and yet she is gone. I am so impatient, so utterly lost, and so much alone. I am not of the living now, only my body remains. I am such a burden to all and no good. My little lamp girl smiles so sweetly tonight but I cannot seem to respond. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:55 P.M.”

Love this sentence that he writes above…. “I cannot stand the strain of the unusual without feeling weaker.” How true that is when going through grief.

“9:10 P.M. October 22nd & 23rd,

Only another day gone. It has been very warm for October, almost like summer. I’ve been reading a short while but my eyes will not stay open longer. I am tired. My little lamp girl looks down at me and smiles so sweetly tonight and seems to almost talk. I wonder why? Man seeks his own comforts and perhaps the imagination is made to help. How I long for my little sweetheart and want to go where she has gone. Such odd dreams as I had last night. I was in a long tunnel in some kind of car, moving along at a very fast speed. I knew another car was coming and we were bound to meet. Death seemed inevitable. And I awakened, my head twitching and greatly frightened. I suppose I shall always be a coward. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:20 P.M.”

“9:10 P.M. October 24^th,

Only another day gone. It has been very warm for October, almost like summer. I’ve been reading a short while but my eyes will not stay open longer. I am tired. My little lamp girl looks down at me and smiles so sweetly tonight and seems to almost talk. I wonder why? Man seeks his own comforts and perhaps the imagination is made to help. How I long for my little sweetheart and want to go where she has gone. Such odd dreams as I had last night. I was in a long tunnel in some kind of car, moving along at a very fast speed. I knew another car was coming and we were bound to meet. Death seemed inevitable. And I awakened, my head twitching and greatly frightened. I suppose I shall always be a coward. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:20 P.M.”

“9:40 P.M. October 25^th,

And I have said that I would always be truthful. Just what is being truthful? To state what has been seen or relate happenings as they have been received by us? That is not sufficient to make one truthful. Time will always tell if we have been truthful. I do not have much to write herein tonight and yet, to be truthful, I should mention the thoughts as they come to me, but I do not and so I am not truthful. I am no longer blessed with a single virtue. I am not truthful. And why should this fact make me feel remorseful or bitter toward life! Because I am not giving the best that is in me; my actions are perhaps of the good, but a man is no better than he thinks. And so I am not yet worth one breath of heaven. Time only makes me worse. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:00 P.M.”

Sally here: Oh my. John seems so very down tonight. “Not yet worth one breath of heaven.” My heart aches for him.

“10:15 P.M. October 26^th,

Can I say that today has been better than the day before? No. It has been the same. Have I been any better? I do not know. I can only try to keep busy, therein lies the only relief or relaxation of life to me. So long as I am busy at something that is not harmful to me or to humanity I am a bit nearer to being content. In this perhaps I am doing wrong. I should pay more heed to people and things about me but I do not. One’s mortal being cannot mingle with the mass of humanity without being subject to its demands and so I try to keep my thoughts up among the stars. Sometimes they soar very high and sometimes they give up in despair and I am again bitter towards life. A greater sentimentalist never lived. I am tired, always tired. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”

(Written by me in 2013)

Isn’t this ironic. John talks about being busy and says if he does he is “nearer to being content.” That is one of the things that kept me going and kept me from going too far down into the depths of despair after my husband died; keeping busy with my diary collecting and reading. And now, I’m keeping busy reading John’s diary, the diary of a widow who writes about keeping busy. Full circle.

“10:45 P.M. October 27^th,

Could I but only write all the thoughts of an evening that come to me, I might read them again some day and wonder from where they came. Today I might call them good and tomorrow I would consider them bad, for it is only after very deep and careful thinking that we ever read the final answer that is all satisfying to us. Some are blessed with a disposition that is content with an answer which the moment seems to urge as the right and proper one, and perhaps it is just as well, man may spend a lifetime and find not a single answer that is infallibly true. I am only unwilling to believe this. I want that which cannot be on earth. I am not fit to be longer of the living. Eleven months have now passed with nothing to live for and yet I live. I shall never find the answers I seek. There is none. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:05 P.M.

“11:10 P.M. October 28^th,

I should be in bed, but I do not like to go. Since I am getting sleepy and can no longer keep my eyes open to read even, there is nothing else to do. Once I was anxious to lay down beside her and felt glad to be her protector, yet how miserably I failed. Now I have no sense of protection to anyone and I want only to sleep a long, long time. How many years ago Epictetus wrote his moral discourses. I do not know; they are mostly philosophic chatter, some good and some hard to understand and occasionally I find something that impresses me greatly. He mentions the inconsistencies of good and evil. Seldom do we admit our evils; we like to feel above sinning. As I’ve written before, sin is only how we interpret it. All eyes do not see alike. And so we have no absolute religion. It is above us. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:30 P.M.”

Quotes from Epictetus

http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/epictetus.html

“10:15 P.M. October 29^th,

Another week gone by, another Sat. night is here. I do not seem so very tired tonight but I am restless, nervous. There seems to be something hovering near that I cannot understand. I cannot solve the mysterious whispering of the wind; it haunts me. There is no one now to relieve any mental strain when life seems difficult to understand; and so I can only carry on until my body refuses, no longer to function. What a pity it cannot rust like iron. To one who is superstitious, my thoughts tonight would be termed a premonition. To me it means nothing; man has no forewarning; no second chance. Life must be lived as it is given unto us. When we pass on we do not return. At least I can go to Greenwood tomorrow; no one can deny me that. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”

Sally here: John’s line, “There seems to be something hovering near that I cannot understand. I cannot solve the mysterious whispering of the wind; it haunts me” is incredible.

(Written by me in 2013 and I still feel even about what I wrote below in 2026)

I’ve never read the book “War and Peace” by Tolstoy but did just finish the new mini series adapted from the novel and loved it. At the end of the book (and the show) Pierre, the main character, who had been through some incredible trials (to say the least), says this…..

FROM THE TV SERIES:

“They say sufferings are misfortunes, but if I was asked, would I stay as I was before I was taken prisoner, or go thru it all again, I would say for God’s sake let me be a prisoner again. When our lives are knocked off course, we imagine everything in them as lost. But it is only the start of something new and good. As long as there is life, there is happiness; there’s a great deal, a great deal still to come.”

TOLSTOY’S ACTUAL QUOTE:

“They say: sufferings are misfortunes,” said Pierre. ‘But if at once this minute, I was asked, would I remain what I was before I was taken prisoner, or go through it all again, I should say, for God’s sake let me rather be a prisoner and eat horseflesh again. We imagine that as soon as we are torn out of our habitual path all is over, but it is only the beginning of something new and good. As long as there is life, there is happiness. There is a great deal, a great deal before us.”

I’ve pondered and pondered that saying, not only with John in mind but with my own sufferings from the loss of my dear husband. Not sure yet how I feel about it all but I love the way it was written and after watching the show, it meant a great deal.

“9:40 P.M. October 30^th,

Not yet late but I must be in bed soon. I want to sleep. I am nervous again this evening. I do not like it but I cannot seem to stop it. Took no flowers to Greenwood today but found some little wildflowers and some zinnias growing nearby. They must have been put there for me. How thankful I was for them. Saw Lorene and her mother at the station, but did not accept their invitation to dinner. I do not feel at all right so am glad I came on home. And am I any nearer to the final goal of man? Yes, I am a day older. I’d like to do something worth while in life, but it seems impossible. I am too weak, too cowardly as ever. How quiet and peaceful it is tonight. I hope my little dream girl comes tonight or if I might go to her. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:50 P.M.”

(Written by me in 2013)

Sally here: Well I’m back from my Texas trip and I could fill a page with thoughts on the trip itself and coming home. As many of you know I’m a widow like John and after having such an incredible time with my daughter and the other people I met, my house seemed very lonely and empty. This widow thing is not easy no matter how much time passes. I began reading another diary (as that is what I do for a living, reading other peoples diaries) and before I share another passage from John’s diary I want to quote this passage I just read written by a woman in the 1950’s. She is writing about a woman she met who was a widow…..

“February 2^nd 1953,
I talked to Corinne today and she told me as a child her father had her take music lessons when what she actually wanted to study was art. So she promised herself when she had her own time and her own money she would study and she did. For three years at the University of Tennessee and for four more years with prominent tutors. Her husband died some few years ago and presently her mother who makes her home with her is an invalid. It leaves no time for art now. I sat there and looked at her, so pretty and animated, talking about something in which she was really interested. I doubt is there are many people who know her as she really is; a person talented and sensitive.”

(Written by me in 2013)

It’s amazing to me; our hearts desire so much and we strive to live out our lives using the passions that drive us. Then death and hardships come in and we put so many things on “hold.” My trip to Texas bought out so many emotions in me and made me realize that there is a whole world out there still, a world where I can let people (including myself) “know me as I really am.” I think it’s time…..

(Written by me now, today, April 9th, 2026)

It really is so very interesting and enlightening to read what I wrote back in 2013. Couple that with John’s entries, it makes me realize how very important it is to keep a diary. It’s also a difficult thing to do, especially when you are down, depressed, grieving, mad, etc. But, oh, how it has helped me when looking back.

“10:40 P.M. October 31^st,

Another month gone, October, and life goes on as before; nothing done, and yet I am always busy. It is just I can only keep busy and then pass on to my final rest, whatever that may be. I’ve been working this evening, unceasingly and very much absorbed; that is well; that is what I am only trying to do in life. If what I do might prove successful I would feel proud perhaps and yet if a total failure I’d be only the more at odds with myself. I do not longer blame anyone or any act of fate, or providence. What comes to me I have brought about; life is what I make it. One failure more or less will not lesson my days to come, one triumph might only hasten the inglorious end and add to the evil already within me; and yet man always wants to be the victor. To something else I might turn. I only want to be busy. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:00 P.M.”

To Be Continued.

To Be Continued.

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