May 14, 1994
"You've never seen death? Look in a mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive."
Jean Cocteau
About an hour ago I walked into the Squire bar where I had planned to spend the afternoon drinking with friends and watching the Red Sox on TV. But the second I sat down, I was overwhelmed by such a ferocious force of fear that my hands and feet started shaking uncontrollably. When the bartender brought me my beer, I had so much difficulty pouring it into the glass that it foamed and overflowed. my hands were shaking as I picked up the glass. I don't know if anyone noticed the trouble I was having, but I didn't stay to find out. I drank my beer as fast as I could manage, then told my friends I forgot something and would be back later. But will not return today.
After I left the Squire I rushed back here as fast as I could, all the while terrorized by fear - a fear of unknown and unexplained horror. Maybe my soul has seen a vision of what is to be and is trying to warn me. I do not know. Since returning I've had two beers and a couple of shots of Jameson, which have calmed my nerves and vanquished the evil spirits that rattled my brittle bones.
In the letter I received from Robin on Monday was a business size card with these words, "God for one free hug, redeem when needed most." I need to be held and hugged, but I have no one to give the card to. John Lennon said, "Nothing works better than to have somebody you love hold you." If only I could spend just one more minute in the arms of Mimi or Bridget, to be held and comforted. And if only I could hold Yoyo in my arms one last time and have her rub her paws across my face - that would be a hug to hold on to and cherish.
This journal has been a form of self-therapy, a way to somehow explain my depression and despair.It has also been a form of self-reflection as well as a simple remembrance to those who read it. But I think all my efforts have failed. I have probably been too self-centered and too self-absorbed, too full of self-pity - maybe even trapped by self-deception. Those were never my intentions but it is too late to erase everything and start over. The one thing I learned is that life is a revelation in slow motion - and now my life is being fast forwarded towards death.
When I looked into the bathroom mirror last night and again this morning, I saw a tired old man reflecting death and decay. My face was collapsing in on itself, my cheeks sunken and gray. There were no teeth in my mouth and my eyes were hollow sockets. The bees of time have aged me beyond my years - they have been diligent, dedicated and defacing.
I am ready to die. My soul awaits its journey, uncertain of its final destination. Ever since I was a kid I've had a special devotion to Saint Michael, the Archangel. I pray that he will protect me on my journey and that he will especially protect me from the wickedness and snares of the devil - and deliver me safely to heaven's gate. And as my dream on Palm Sunday foreshadowed, at heaven's gate I expect to meet Harold Holbrook, who will then gently guide me home to God.
3:00pm - Bradford Inn - Chatham, MA
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