Dear Diary, January 14, 1962
It is day three with being stranded here. I’m not exactly stranded though; I would just rather not leave. I’m on top of this huge ice cliff. Two days ago, I lost my husband. We were walking along the ice shelf and we didn’t see what was before us. He fell. He fell into this opening in the ice shelf. I lost him. He was sucked into this hole that ran over a hundred feet into the ice. He drowned. He always told me that his worst fear was drowning. He said that he would rather be murdered than drowned. God, I lost my whole life the moment he was sucked into that hole. We just got married a couple months ago. We didn’t even start the family we dreamed of yet. I didn’t know what to do. He was gone before I could even say, “I love you.” I screamed. I screamed his name over and over again thinking that he could hear me, but he couldn’t. His ears, his mouth, his nose was rushing with water. I’m thinking while I sit here and write these words. I’m thinking about what my life would be like without Andrew. Maybe I should jump in also. I can’t be without him. I wouldn’t be able to go on with my life after I get back home. I’d be alone. I wouldn’t be able to live the same way. I can’t toss away our marriage as if it was nothing. What am I supposed to tell his parents or my parents? How would both our families react? These may be the last words I ever write because I am going to jump into that hole. I am going to be with my husband forever. One day someone will find this book, my diary. Share it with the world if you’d like. I don’t really care. I’m dead.
Sincerely,
May Holiday
No comments:
Post a Comment