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 "Damn! 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 embarrassments, 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 buttons 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 hassle… 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 assure
That through each death
New life will come.
And so it is that spring explodes,
A vibrant mass of color,
Flaunting the essence of life itself;
Thinking not of life long past
But only life forthcoming.