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Chapter 41 Continuum

"I have walked in the mountains and seen the beauty surrounding me.

I have heard the babble of a stream and the eerie hoot of an owl."

"I can see and hear. . . I've known what it is to feel physically normal. Some people never do."

". . . the core is intact despite the withering exterior.

. . . that undefinable part of oneself that lives beyond earthly existence."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Continuum

Feb. 13, 1984... I have often thought, "If only I could make time stand still.".. when I am involved in an enjoyable day. I know that wish could not possibly occur, but if it could, it would most certainly be a selfish desire. In that same instant, perhaps another individual is struggling with overwhelming sorrow, and an extension of that sorrow would cause the individual many times more difficulty. No, it is much better that time continues. The inconsistency of life necessitates the seconds, minutes and hours which make up a day. Life is, at times, difficult to bear, and time pa.s.ses, allowing one to rest and derive solace from the bits of serenity found here and there along the way.

I would not elect to make a change (even if I could) in the system of time unless I was able to better that particular moment for all concerned.

After Dr. Freeman stilled my paranoia and filled my cavity, I'm conscious that my own worth (in silver) has escalated! I sat outside on the "stoop" (what a name). . . suddenly I was inspired to compose a poem. . . I rushed inside for a piece of paper upon which I could unleash my inspiration. It was a beautiful day, complete with sunshine and snowy clouds sailing rapidly by overhead.

The Truest Friend

The air is fresh With the promise of Spring...

Sap flows to the treetops, The chickadees sing The insects respond To the warmth of the sun And the gra.s.s will stand tall E'er the day is done.

Myriad clouds reign A flawless blue sky...

Short-lived is their kingdom Through which they fly For springtime delivers Their wealth to the earth To nurture the land With the newness of birth.

The time so quickly Hastens by. . .

Soon spring is gone And summer, nigh (As after dawn, The pearly morn) Upon warm wings The summer is borne.

Time goes on Like an endless maze, Melding seconds to hours And hours to days.

The seasons reel onward, Ever the same, While humanity strains Against winds of change.

It is well that time Is beyond man's control For to meddle therewith Would but injure the soul.

Time, alone, is willing to share Grief too great for one to bear, For time will come One misty dawn When the mind has grown And sorrow is gone.

Perhaps time Is one's truest friend...

One's sole companion 'Til the very end.

Lauren Isaacson February 13, 1984

Feb. 20, 1984... I had a brief cry in my room while holding my green parakeet. It seems to know Norm is gone. I can just hear Norm saying, "Even bird misses me!"... he used to get a rise out of me by saying how good he was... "Even bird LOVES me!"... or looking in the mirror at his reflection he'd say "d.a.m.n! I'm handsome!" he would never get his hair styled so he'd ask me if I liked his hair and when I'd just smile he'd say, "Dummy!"... it was a standing joke... I made Dad's birthday cake, then sat outside for a time and wrote another poem about emptiness.

The Cure

It was not food I hungered for Nor did I seek material gains...

I thirsted not for toxic drinks Or pills to mask life's heartfelt pains...

I did not look for merry crowds To fill my days with mirth; I only sought totality And peacefulness on earth.

Into this world, I came alone And so, I must depart; My life-long cure for emptiness Was loving from the heart.

February 20, 1984 Lauren Isaacson

Mar. 19, 1984... I realize some people who keep diaries do not include those things which would detract from their personalty. However, I feel that a journal cannot be complete without those embarra.s.sments, for they are a part of me and help me to improve myself. I speak of negligence and selfishness tonight. . . I came across 3 toggle b.u.t.tons in my sewing things which Norm had purchased months and months ago.

They were intended for his big sweater, and I'd volunteered to to sew them on; I never did, and eventually. . . until now. . . forgot about the job completely. Now I regret my laziness with regard to follow-through on projects. It just seems so stupid of me, and I wonder why I put it off. It was not a big ha.s.sle... I just never got to it.

Another thing of which I am ashamed is that since I can't eat everything, I tend to be rather protective or hoggish over those certain foods which seldom make me sick. One such food is cake. At the steak supper the other night, they were selling baked goods. We bought some things, among them 6 creme-filled cupcakes. They were delicious, similar to Ding Dongs. Anyway, I ate 3 of the 6, and then tonight, Dad was going to have another. . . the last. . . and I was silently upset. Later Dad said I could have it, that he didn't really want it. I felt bad even though I hadn't mentioned anything aloud to him about my wanting it. . . perhaps we foster a bit of selfishness whether we will admit it or not. I am disgusted with my own selfish quirks which occasionally spill out, but at the same time I feel fortunate that I am able to be aware of them. Awareness leads to overcoming faults. Later I took pictures of a hibiscus and of birds near the feeder using my 2 x extender. I again embarked upon my quilt project, sewing together more squares. It seems that I have sad spells whenever I sit down and reflect upon Norm, recalling our times together. Whenever I'm alone, I tend to break down. I'm glad I can release my emotions. It seems incredible to me that Norm and I won't be sharing Canada together. I have no desire to go with any other person, for it wouldn't be the same at all. I hope it will work out with Mom and Dad. (I will have to remember my ear plugs, for both snore!) I'm sure I can enjoy the trip...I'll take books and my journal to tide me over in the car.

Mar. 23, 1984... It seems, as yet, an impossibility that Norm and I will no more share the lovely transformation of winter to spring, and all those seasons to follow. Perhaps my time is now best spent alone, for in this way I shall be able to be with him in my mind and feel within myself those qualities which we shared.

Perpetuation

Skeletal remnants of autumns bygone Habitate the woodland floor As if, in silence, to a.s.sure That through each death New life will come.

And so it is that spring explodes, A vibrant ma.s.s of color, Flaunting the essence of life itself; Thinking not of life long past But only life forthcoming.

In the wake of smold'ring heat Emerald cloaks a naked branch And guards the fruit Which bear the hope That blossoms will not cease to bloom.

When golden overtakes the green And shadows yawn 'fore noonday sun, A message, though unspoken, blows 'cross weary field and aged grove To beckon, as to timeless friends, A sojourn shared 'neath winter snow.

And thus, a pod from which all life has flown Must bid its earthly stance farewell And harken to a chillwinds' call To rest unto eternity.