“Once Afraid of Death, Now Afraid of Life.”
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“10:10 P.M. November 1st,
November and one day gone. This month holds the day of my birth and the day of my death. What remains of me now does not hold the joy of living; the thrill of effort to reach the ideals we place before us. I am only waiting, trying to be the best I can but very greatly impatient. I’ve finished the little plane but I do not know if it will fly. The moment of exultation or disappointment has not yet been experienced. I am thankful in its making. I’ve been busy. The outcome of my efforts cannot change the ache within my heart. I do not seek glory. We all seem to seek happiness in life but why? Where may we find it? Happiness may be with us always if we will only be happy. It may be dwelling in the land, perhaps more real happiness than in many mansions. Why should one seek further than his own self? I am to mean to be happy. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”
“10:15 P.M. November 2nd, (He has circled the #2 in the date; not sure why but would love to know the meaning behind it)
I am sitting by the fire to warm my shins before going to bed. It is quite a bit cooler, real fall weather, but no frost as yet. I will be cold before morning. I cannot keep warm no matter how much cover I may have. Man thinks of many things that are against his wishes or the urge within to do otherwise. I wonder why? Usually to satisfy some desire or curiosity. There is nothing that has quite so great an influence in the control of our being as the gift of sight; nothing so strongly arouses a desire to do or to have some thing as to see the object concerned. What others may think of me matters not; my soul is not harmed or bettered thereby. My actions must meet my own approval. Tonight I am not content with them. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”
(Written by me in 2013)
Forgive the delay in posting. I’m still in the process of selling my home which I feel will allow me to really focus on my diary business. I have so many dreams I want to fulfill when it comes to sharing these diaries and I know I’m on the right path. Tough decision, as I’ve been in this precious house for 20 years….but….it’s time.
(Written by me today, May 29th, 2026)
It’s so surreal to read what was last written by me in 2013. It would be another 4 years before I finally got my home ready to sell and move. When I moved to Washington State in 2017, my son, his wife and two grandchildren had moved there before me a year earlier, so it was easy to head that way. I had no idea at the time how effortless it would be to drive away from my home in Sheridan Oregon.
In 1993, I purchased this beautiful 1920’s bungalow on the river. It was there in Sheridan I met an amazing man by the name of Kevin Ivey, married him in 1994 and raised our 4 children together. For the next 14 years, Kevin and I renovated the house, worked in our large garden over looking the river, had tons of children running in and out of the house at all hours, spent 23 memorable Christmas’s, and so much more. But in 2008, that all came crashing down when he was killed. I spent 8 years in a state of grief in that house but thankfully that precious home turned into a place of refuge for me. By the time I finished selling it, I knew that when I left, it meant I was leaving a good deal of the pain behind. As I drove away in 2017, I felt a sense that the darkness was staying back there and that I was on to a new adventure. So above in my 2013 entry, when I say that I have so many dreams I want to fulfill when it comes to sharing these diaries, well, that’s been happening. I have four amazing grown children now and 5 precious grandchildren. I also met a wonderful man, Jeff, in 2018, who is my friend, my precious companion, my podcast partner, and my travel buddy. And here we are, with 67 episodes of “Diary Discovers” and many more to come. I will never be completely healed from the pain of loosing my husband Kevin, and the memories of that darkness still visits me occasionally, but it doesn’t last. And John, you remind me that I am or never was alone in it. There is a light at the end of that long dark tunnel, I just had to persevere…..
Our 1994 wedding photo. Now our kids are all grown up and have children of their own.
Our Sheridan Oregon Bungalow Home.
“11:10 P.M. November 3rd,
Cool again tonight and the fire feels good. Outdoors the moon half full is shining brightly. It is now too cold for me to sleep out on the grass and talk to the stars in my waking moments. I love them still, and all that surrounds them in the limitless bounds of the heavens. Again this evening I’ve been experimenting with the little plane. It does most everything but what I want it to. Have not yet perfected it to a point where it may be tested to see if it will fly. I do not think it will; it is too heavy. Well, I can try another. What is another failure to me? Nothing. What would a success be? I am fearful of the answer. I no longer have my dreams of youth. I am not worth much any more. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:25 P.M.”
“10:20 P.M. November 4th,
There seems to be nothing I can write tonight. This has been just another day, a busy day. I am glad it has been busy. I do not seem to feel right tonight; my head bothers me a great deal. Perhaps it is only a cold. Perhaps it is something else; it does not matter. Nothing matters now. I am not worried greatly. Man can only come finally to the great adventure, that is inevitable. The manner in which our closing days must be lived is our only trial, after death there is only silence. I do not wish to be a burden on anyone; that is all I ask. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 10:30 P.M.”
“10:30 P.M. Sat. night again.
A cool north wind bids well to bring us closer to winter. Tomorrow Champions come and champions go but the world goes on forever. Saw the finals of the P.G.A. meet this afternoon at Cedar Crest. Hagen is still champion. A great golf player but not much of a man for me to admire. We are all only men. Perhaps one just as good as another. None of any special worth. Man, so long as he is in supreme command of his particular realm, fears nothing. Man seeking to gain command sometimes falters. Suppose the moon should suddenly drop from the heavens, then would man stop and wonder. How much closer to our creator we would all try to become. It has cost me much to learn that many should not fear death. I rather fear the living now. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:45 P.M.”
“1:55 P.M. November 6th,
Much cooler today, tho I did not get cold driving to Ft. Worth and to Greenwood. Pat and Ray brought her such a pretty bunch of chrysanthemums today. I met them at Greenwood and they drove over just ahead of me. They are always welcome visitors. I am rather tired tonight, tho not a great deal more than usual I guess. Did not sleep well last night. The little extra strain of following the golf match yesterday just threw me off my daily routine. I am growing old; not peacefully and graciously, as life should go, but only with the agony in my soul of life so completely exiled from the joy of living. I act like I am a martyr, I am only a fool. Perhaps I shall always be one. There is no answer. There seems to be no God. Man is only a pest. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:15 P.M.”
“9:55 P.M. November 7th,
I cannot write much tonight, my head feels too badly to take any line of thought and write it down with any sense of reasoning. There does not seem to be any relief to my mind in attempting to reason anything out. Perhaps I may find an answer that seems correct to me, but life does not prove it so and I am no better than the day before. My neck seems still tonight and the back of my head seems to be weighted down. Some days I seem to be very strong and tomorrow very weak. I am alone now and yet with her always. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 10:05 P.M.”
“10:40 P.M. November 8th,
I should be in bed. I do not feel good, my head aches and is bothering me again tonight and yet why should I be so careful and concerned about my health? Have I not asked many times for death? I am not greatly concerned about my health. I am only anxious to rest because I can hardly sit up longer, it is exhaustion. I say that I do not fear death; perhaps I am not truthful in that statement. I want to be truthful, if nothing else. In all of Christs teachings we are told that we should “fear God.” I cannot understand the necessity of such an admonition. Man is never close to God in life, and man never dies without some fear or doubt in his mind of what death holds. We cannot do other than face death bravely, but cannot be sure of what it holds. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:00 P.M.
“11:00 P.M. November 9th,
Only another day gone by, much as the one before. I am tired but my head does not seem to bother so much tonight, or at least I have not noticed it because I have been busy. Nothing in life leaves as deep an impression on our interpretation of living as our own experiences. If we were only willing to heed the lessons learned by others we might avoid some of our mistakes but we seldom realized their full meaning until our own efforts, or actions, prove their correctness. Then it is often too late and we are left to our own bitterness. A friend and his wife have separated, a four year old daughter now faces life without the full parental love which is her due. What would I not give for the privilege to enjoy the blessings which they might make for themselves? Life is very odd. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:20 P.M.”
“11:15 P.M. November 10th,
Today is my birthday. Perhaps I shall never see another. It seems impossible for me to live on and on; life is so empty. I can only try to keep it busy. Cora and Bethine try to do so much for me. I am grateful to them but I do not in the least express my devotion to them. I do not want to be loved any more; I guess I am not worth it. Dittos were over for dinner and the evening. It is a wonder any one would come to see me. I am so cold and mean. But I want to be alone; that is all I ask. Memory has not failed me yet; the past holds more than the future promises. I have her picture by me now; it is never far away. I don’t see why she can’t be with me tonight. Oh! God, I am so useless. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:30 P.M.”
“9:30 P.M. November 11th,
One more day is gone, that seems my only consolation in the evening when bedtime comes. They are all so very much alike, one more or one less does not seem to be treasured. I am thankful if they have been spent as I want them to be; I am remorseful if they bring some urge or action that is not always good. And so the days come and go, some are good and some are bad. This is Armistice Day. Memories of many things it brings to mind. How different it is from that of nine years ago. Joy and hope which mounted to the highest pinnacles of mans desire then throbbed within me. Now I am only silent. Nothing can ever revive the spirit that once prevailed. It is dead. I want to sail with the silver clouds or climb near the moon; to be away from living things and talk to the stars. I am very odd. “Ilya toyed skiusya.” 9:50 P.M.”
(WOW. John you are NOT odd and if you are you are in the greatest sense of the word. You are a poet, you are an amazing writer and I don’t even know if you knew that…… “Joy and hope which mounted to the highest pinnacles of mans desire then throbbed within me. Now I am only silent.” AMAZING)
“10:20 P.M. November 12th,
It is only Sat. night again. It is much colder. Winter will soon be here. To what end does man finally come? It is always puzzling to me. I want to know, so I must want to die. Man can find the answer no other way. And yet I shall always seek so long as life remains. I work hard; I am always busy; it does not tire me greatly only at times, but it brings not the relief or peace of mind which means rest. I am a devil indeed. Tomorrow I can take so many lovely chrysanthemums to Greenwood. She always loved flowers, they shall not be wanting to beautiful her little plot so long as I am able to make the trip to Ft. Worth. If I was not here there would be no flowers for her. Some day I’ll be resting too. Perhaps then we may chase the moon together. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:35 P.M.”
“11:25 P.M. November 13th,
It is getting late. I must be in bed soon. The drive home from Ft. Worth this evening has left me tired but I do not want to go to bed. Pat had such a nice dinner today. I’m sorry I could not eat more to make her feel as tho I appreciated it, when it was for my birthday. The white and yellow chrysanthemums I took to Greenwood today were so pretty; I take them for her; she loved flowers so. If there were only still her loving arms to receive them. How I worship her yet; if it is wrong then it cannot be helped. I can be no different I wish I was only half as good as I try to be. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:40 P.M.”
“10:20 P.M. November 14th,
How precious memory is and yet how it makes the heart ache again. This evening I got out my little drafting board to sketch some plans of another airplane model which I intend to build; the little board which she used to hold in her lap when curled up in her rocker and there write letters to mother and daddy and to me if I should happen to be gone for a day. On the back of the board is her name in her own handwriting. It made my heart beat faster when I saw it but just beside her name is the faint pencil lines of a hand, my hand which I laid on the board and she traced the outline around it. It all came to me as quick as a flash and the little love pats which she gave my hand. I could hardly refrain from bursting out sobbing. Oh God! How could you take her away? Please let me go to her! “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:35 P.M.”
(Sally here: All I can say is Wow and that I wish I had that board or even a photo of it.)
“10:35 P.M. November 15th,
Sitting by the fire alone. Cora and Bethine are asleep. It is colder tonight. I do not want to go to bed. I cannot keep warm and so I sit by the fire and wonder a great deal about life until I cannot longer stay awake. Now there is no planning for the future, the days bring only what they may. I cannot seem to bear my loss without grief and bitterness in my heart; I am still too much a coward to face life bravely and make the best of it. Such changes life brings and life seemed so dear I was afraid of death. Now death seems so dear and I am afraid of life and yet I live. How easily I might end my life but we are taught it is wrong to do so and so I do not. I wonder if cowardice holds me back? I suppose. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:55 P.M.”
(Sally here: WOW….. “life seemed so dear I was afraid of death. Now death seems so dear and I am afraid of life and yet I live.”)
“11:10 P.M. November 16th,
It is cold again tonight, near freezing I imagine. I get so cold near morning I cannot sleep and I’ve a comfortable bed and plenty of covers to keep me warm. There seems to be no circulation in my feet and legs and I cannot keep them warm. I have been busy today and I am glad for that but I am not pleased with what the evening brought. It is always the same, always the time comes when I am hardly worth the air I breathe, and I am always sorry it is so. Man may expect much as great blessings to come from his religious zeal; but I do not believe man is ever worthy of the sanctity which he endeavors to build about himself. We are all very much alike, merely puppets. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:25 P.M.”
“10:25 P.M. November 17th,
Not so cold tonight, yet I shall probably be cold and cannot sleep before morning. Oh, well, I have slept colder, or at least had to try to sleep under much worse conditions. I am getting older, and should not complain but it is only my part of life. And so civilization is only a sort of veneer. I guess that is about true. We often hear of the cultural veneer of some of our prominent social leaders. They act or live only as the custom demands. It is not natural, so all our civilization is the same thing in a lesser degree. Any and all of us revert back to the true stage of human instinct with which we are endowed under certain conditions. Restraint or an affected personality, each destroy our real beauty. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:35 P.M.”
“11:05 P.M. November 18th,
I suppose I must become accustomed to the cold, to sleeping alone and having no one to help keep me warm. I am not worth being comfortable else I should not now be uncomfortable. I am only a very weak specimen of humanity. I shall never be anything else. Our actions are not always as we want them to be, for we never reach the perfection we strive to attain; it is not possible to do so in reality. We are never equal to our imagined idols of goodness-only He who rules the universe can be that. We permit ourselves to become sinful and slaves to our body, yet we only point out the sin which appears as such to us and despite the consequences of it, but we do not go so much into the cause of sin. One is not born sinful; there is always some cause of it. I may find a cause someday. “Ilya toyed skuisya” 11:20 P.M.”
Written by me in 2013
I have to keep reminding myself that John is only a few months into his grief, his deepest grief. I think I’ve been blogging from John’s diary for a few years now and so for a brief moment while I share passages from his diary I why he is still feeling so dark but then reality hits me and I remember he is new in this world of darkness; it hasn’t even been a full year for him. My husband has been gone for almost 10 years now, which seems almost impossible for me to comprehend. But in those early months, those early years, my darkness was as great as any I can imagine. Same with my self worth….that will change John, just hold on.
“10:40 P.M. November 19th,
The close of another week and the end of another day. My throat is sore. I have a little cough. I do not know whether I am sick or not and care less. It is not within my power to control the weakness of my physical being. When I die I shall be dead a long time. I know not how long I shall live. That is one thing man is certain of. I wanted to go with her nearly a year ago now but I could not. I try to be worthy of an equal share of the rest which now is hers, but I am not. In passing I might be credited with the glory of an undying devotion which death seems not a part of that, I am not worthy. There is not within me one atom of life, as life should be, that is equal to her loving sacrifice. I shall live a long time. I shall never die because I shall never be good enough. I can only go to Greenwood tomorrow. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:00 P.M.”
Written by me in 2013
John seems more depressed than ever in this entry. It might be coupled with his becoming sick. I often prayed right after my husband died, please Lord, help me not to become sick because I wasn’t sure if I could survive the grief and the sickness. But, one of the first widow’s I met after the death of my husband was Muriel. She was 10 years older than I and her husband had died 3 years earlier. Muriel ended up getting cancer and watching her go through her grief and also fight cancer; well my heart went out to that precious woman. She had such incredible strength but it was so very difficult on her, and that’s an understatement. She has since passed and is now with her spouse…..and so is John
“9:25 P.M. November 20th,
Sunday will soon by gone. I have been to Greenwood. I do not feel very strong tonight. I go to bed to sleep and rest. I cannot seem to keep moving and doing always. Next Sun. will be Nov. 27 – one year – the day when life ended for her; she now has the rest eternal. It is God’s great justice that I should live and suffer. She could not want me to do that – she would not want me to be as I am today. I have not in the smallest measure the complete and sweet understanding of life as was here, and as she gave to me each day. I am only lost. I am not fit to be near her home above. I can only take her flowers. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:40 P.M.”
“10:15 P.M. November 21st,
Nearing the close of another day; how short they seem when this hour of the evening rolls around. I must be in bed soon. My cold is all in the top of my head and makes it feel somewhat feverish. It will soon be better. I hold the pencil in my hand. I wonder just what it will write before this page is full? Only what my hand directs it to write. And what controls the movement of my hand? I do what my mind passes on to the finger tips. The thoughts come crowding in but I cannot write them all. If man could only have all his thought before him as they flit from one thing to another, what a panorama of our inner self we might behold. And how then we might be able to pass judgment on ourselves. But they are never written. Perhaps God knows what they are. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:30 P.M.”
(Sally here: When I read these kind of entries in diaries….“I hold the pencil in my hand. I wonder just what it will write before this page is full?”…… it makes me feel like the long thread of time that is between me and the diarist, the thread that is holding us together, has shortened to the extent, that the sense of sitting right next to them has heightened…..as crazy as that might sound.)
“10:05 P.M. November 22nd,
Again the evening hour is here, again I made an effort to record something the day may have brought to me. Tonight, were my little sweetheart with me now, I should dry tenderly today, her tears and ease the little ache in her heart which would be there because Daddy Dale died today. Always the best Daddy in the world to her, that is only what a Father should be. Could I but only see her little dream face tonight then might I not see gladness in her eyes now, her Daddy is passing the last long trail. How sweet her welcome will be. Oh! God! That I might only be worthy of her welcome now. It seems that I can never be. I am not fit to touch her tiny foot, else might I not be given the great adventure. I do not feel good. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:20 P.M.”
(Daddy Dale is his wife Lillian’s father. He was a deputy sheriff and collector in Lutesville Missouri. The fabulous photo below is “Daddy Dale.”)
John Calvin Dale – (1857 – 1927)
“9:00 P.M. November 23rd,
Not yet late but I cannot stay up much longer. I feel very weak and nervous tonight. Perhaps I shall not rest well. It cannot be helped. I wanted to leave this evening for Lutesville to be there for Daddy Dale’s funeral, but am entirely too weak to attempt the trip. I am sorry it is so. The question of my going, to some, may not have been necessary, to me, I wanted to go but could not. We always have a duty to those whom we love. This is only Wed. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. It seems a long time until Sunday. I wonder can I go to Greenwood Sun.? Yes, if I am able. Heard Sherron playing tonight, (Ditto’s baby girl) and thought I would ask Bethine to bring her over for a moment but I have such a cold I did not want to expose her to it. I love her very much but I seldom want to see her. I am only jealous. It seems that sorrow often softens the heart. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:20 P.M.”
“9:40 P.M. November 24th,
I cannot write very much tonight. Have been in bed most all day trying to rest up and get rid of a cold. It does not seem much better, my head bothers me tonight. Perhaps I shall be better in the morning. I must be better before Sunday. Thanksgiving Day is gone. How sad it has been to me. For what can I be thankful? There seems nothing yet. It should not be so. If I am thankful for life I am not fit for death. We should only accept it as it come without grumbling. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:55 P.M.”
“9:20 P.M. November 25th,
Just another day gone. I have been in bed almost all day. I guess I could have been at work, tho I seemed to be rather weak. The more I lie in bed the worse I feel, tho sometimes I have to rest. Got up this evening and took a walk. It did not hurt me any. Does not matter a great deal whether I am sick or well, I feel about the same. It is just a question of making myself keep going. I’ll be at work tomorrow and perhaps I’ll be strong enough to go to Greenwood Sun. Sun. will be the 27th, one year. What a lifetime it has been to me. I guess I am growing older. I wish it might be graciously, but it cannot be so. Life is not mine to govern. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:30 P.M.”
“9:45 P.M. November 26th,
Sat. night. Of course tomorrow is Sunday. I always wonder what tomorrow will bring, not that it matters any, only we all hope of something that might give us greater happiness or pleasure, as a nearer realization of our dreams. I have no dreams. I seek no pleasure; tho I’d like to be a bit more cheerful for the sake of those about me in that I am a failure as in all other things of life. I am only the dreamer, or have been, and now I have no dreams. A man without a country could not have less purpose of living than I and yet I live. Stories! Could her little ring I now wear always tell what of life it has seen, much of the sweetness of living and much of its sorrow would be pictured. I seem always fearful for tomorrow to come. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:00 P.M.”
“9:40 P.M. November 27th,
One year of life devoid of all her precious love and guidance; one year less to live. To me on this day the beginning of time seems to date. No longer can I find the glory in living, can only wait, not always patiently. I can only go to Greenwood now – did take some little flowers – they are always meant for her. Many trails may I follow ere I gain my rest eternal, but always they will end at Greenwood. I must ever go again. So much more in the happenings of the day that soften the heartstrings. Pat, gone home to be at Daddy Dale’s funeral, is sick and has been very bad. I can do nothing. Mother Dale is coming back with Pat next week if she is well enough. How I want to see her. This evening Cova had a call from Wichit’s. Mr. Gadeck was injured on a fire truck yesterday and died today. Only we are there today and gone tomorrow. To me, devil that I am, it would seem a blessing that I might die. Once afraid of death, now afraid of life. Such a coward as I am. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:05 P.M.”
“9:20 P.M. November 28th,
Another day, another year, to me is on its way. What may it hold? I do not know. I shall write very little tonight. My head seems almost bursting at times. I do not like it when my head pains so badly. I cannot think clearly. I am ill tempered enough when my head does not hurt, but it makes me doubly worse when it pains me so. Perhaps I am losing strength fast. I can’t throw off my cold at all. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 9:30 P.M.”
“11:00 P.M. November 29th,
My head feels much better tonight and I hope I may rest well. Have felt rather weak or odd in some way a few times today but have been busy. The wind is blowing tonight; perhaps it means a change in the weather. I put in a call to Ray this evening to find out if he was home again, but have been unable to get him. I wonder how Pat is? I am anxious to know. I hope she is feeling much better now. Have been busy this evening; working again on another idea, probably as silly and useless as all my others, but it keeps my mind busy and I am glad for that. The little airplane is not yet finished, it will have to remain as it is for a while. Tomorrow will be the passing of November; and then on Thursday comes her birthday. No gift can I give her now, no wish for happiness to come – all earthly offerings cannot equal her glorious sacrifice. Nor can I be her equal. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:15 P.M.”
“11:10 P.M. November 30th,
Comes bed time again. November, so much the month of November has brought to me; a great share of sorrow than anything else it seems. I cannot understand why life must be as it is, nor can I ever. It is useless to try. Life demands so much and gives so little. I can only say that I have made it so. It is not in the least as the dreams of youth had planned it to be; nor as my efforts were. Could I but only grasp the reason for it being as it is. I have not the simple faith to say that God knows best, and so much I always wonder why. Tomorrow is her birthday. I can do nothing now. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:20 P.M.”
To Be Continued:
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