May 11, 1994

"No one ever lacks a good reason for suicide."
                                         Cesare Pavese

I arrived in Sandwich late yesterday afternoon and will be spending the next two nights here. I am surrounded by relatives - my mom and dad, my aunt Clare and uncle Frank are next door on one side of us and my cousin Bernie and his wife Sally are on the other side. I love these people and enjoy being with them and seeing them one last time. And this time with my parents is very special, each moment precious and pleasurable. Although they are unaware of the importance of this time together, I am cherishing every minute. There is an odd and uncomfortable feeling within me, knowing that when I leave on Friday morning I'll never see them again - and when I kiss them goodbye, it will be forever. There are sadness and tears in these thoughts but they don't dampen my determination and desire to die.

Last night I dreamed of the movie, Harry and Tonto, starring Art Carney as Harry. It's a film about an old man, Harry, and his travels across America visiting family with his best friend and buddy, his cat Tonto. It is both a funny and sad movie and I completely understand the tender and caring love between Harry and Tonto. I should kidnap Andy and Yoyo and take them on an adventure across America. We would visit Devil's Tower and Little Bighorn, the Great Salt Lake and the Grand Canyon - and we would drive through the Arizona desert and stop in Tombstone and see the OK corral. I would let Andy run through the desert's sand and Yoyo could use the desert as a giant litter box. And along our journey we would send postcards to Maggie with the message, "Glad you're not here."  Maybe we would slip across the border to Mexico, rent a stucco bungalow and hide out from the law. What an adventure that would be!

At this very moment I feel so alone and the pain is unbearable. Yesterday I went to the MSPCA shelter in Centerville and looked at the dogs and cats. They were all as lonely as I am, and they looked at me with hope and affection in their eyes and on their faces. There truly isn't anything worse than abandonment, for it's absolute agonizing aloneness encased in hopelessness. If they are not adopted within a couple of weeks, they are put to sleep - as in killed. I am living as they are, just waiting to be put to sleep - for I  have decided that pills will be the remedy that relieves me of the deadly demons of depression and despair.

I am surprised that I've lasted as long as I have. I am chilled by the memories of winter - of walking the streets of Chatham at night in the cold as it rained or snowed, of sleeping in my car or on floors, of spending Christmas, New Year's and my birthday alone and frightened. How I survived those days and nights, I do not know. But it is now May and my nightmare of hell and madness will soon be over.

In his poem, Assurances, Walt Whitman writes, "I need no assurances, I am a man who is preoccupied of his own soul...I do not think life provides for all and for time and space, but I believe heavenly death provides for all." When there is no hope, no assurances, what is there to hold onto? Only the peace of death.

3:00pm   -   Sandwich Library   -   Sandwich, MA

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