diary first appearance Sept 21, 1911

Today was moth-eaten and wet. Went out for a paseo anyway. The leaves are starting to plough and the dampness makes their color all the more acute. I so bid Jonathan was here to walk with me. I walked retentive than I should and was quite chilled when I returned. I am never inhuman when he is with me.

journal entering September 22, 1911

Awoke this morning very tight in my chest. I know it is just a minor over-crowding from too a lot walk in the rainwater, but Mother insisted on calling Dr. Jamison. He confirmed my diagnosis, prescribed a day in bed and several doses of a nasty elixir. It was another rainy and cold day so I had piffling desire to go out in any case. I used the clock time to spell a missive to my darling Jonathan.

***

Mr. Jonathan Stephen Arnold Douglas

Hotel Central Room 238

59 east main Street

Chicago Illinois

dear Jonathan :

I am forced to bed today by a footling congestion. You know how I hate confinement. But at least I have time to pen and that offers much solacement. I count the proceedings till you return and we are forever joined. I can not say enough how glad it makes me knowing that I will soon be your wife.

Yesterday I went for a walkway, in malice of the inclement weather. I walked up to the graveyard and placed flower at the entrance to the family vault where my dear baby Clarissa lies. It is such a lovely place, especially this time of year as the leave-taking cover the pasture with their blanket of red, yellow and orange. The leg of a great oak spread over the entree, sheltering it. It is such a passive, contemplative berth, I always feel refreshed when I come. I think it is because, for a piece, whatever pains I feel or problems are before me, they seem to melt to small beer as I contemplate the perfect eonian ataraxis, that Clarissa now knows and that we too will find in God 's own time. I feel her presence so close as I stand there, beside her resting place. She was always so happy, in venom of the frailties that plagued her since parturition. She died two years ago, on the day that will be our wedding day. I still recall how, in her final consequence, she took my hand and smiled, whispering `` perhaps, when next we meet, I shall finally vanquish you at badminton ''. Then a serene verbal expression came to her boldness and she quietly drifted away.

Oh, Jonathan, I do so care she could be here to share our well-chosen day. Yet I know I will feel her presence, smiling down from heaven, so felicitous for my happiness. On lighter depicted object, the family is in a state of such total confusion you would think the hymeneals was tomorrow. Mother is running this way and that, image checking on flowers, food for the reception, accommodations for guest, and on and on. I do wish you were here to lend a calming influence.

Oh Jonathan, please promise me that you will let nothing hold up your return and that no matter what happens, we will be united on the appointed day.

All my eternal dearest

Leona

***

Sept. 23

Bright and sunny, some closeness remains, but my mood is as gay as the undimmed orange and yellow leaves. Had what should be the final try-on on my scrubs. I ca n't trust that in only three weeks I will wear it down the aisle and go Mrs. Jonathan Little Giant ! Words can not express the joy I feel.

Sept 24

Awoke this cockcrow with horrifying cough. It cleared after a while but the good Doctor ordered me to bed and cater me with more than of his awful elixir. He seemed quite inscribe, the old fool. None the less, I am happy that almost everything is ready for the wedding, so I can take a few daylight to catch one's breath and recover. In only seven days my honey Jack returns from his change of location. I count the hours till he can hold me in his arms again.

Sep 25

This break of day was low temperature and dampness, I awoke again with much coughing and feeling chilled. It passed by noon but I remained in bed all day, feeling weak and weary. The Doctor came, and went again. He was as assure as usual, but I noted a spot of concern in his vocalization. Mother too, seemed a bit uneasy after speaking with him. I, however, am so certain that nothing will interfere with our happiness, that I discount their concerns. I know it is a niggling ailment and I shall be up and about in no metre. For the present I shall enjoy the hazard to rest and escape from Mother 's invariable flurry.

Sept 26

Today started much like yesterday, but it was well past noon before felt well enough to sit up and choose a little food for thought. The tightness in my chest persists even yet. Initially I was sword lily of the rest, but now I feel lag. The doc came and went, again, after forcing me to take Thomas More of his awful medicine. I do so wish well this ailment would pass. I feel I have so much to do. Heaven forbid that my beloved Jonathan should return from his journey and discover me still confined to my bed.

sept 27

Today I confronted the doctor about my illness, upon which his foul elixirs seem to have no outcome. He tried to avoid the question and say it was cypher, but I could tell he was not telling all and I persisted. Finally his face took on a inscribe expression. He told me he thought I was a strong woman who could face the verity, he proceeded to tell apart me that I was suffering from the like ill of the heart and lung that claimed my dear sister. Of course he is a perfect muggins ! How could he imagine such a thing !

Sept 28

Still forced to bed. The irritation seems bad. It is all so unjust ! That I, a womanhood of such pattern vigor, should be struck down in this way. I hate the morbid weeping faces of those convinced of my subjective death ! I hate the whispers outside my door ! What are they hiding from me ? That they are already planning my funeral ? ! The stupe fools ! I wish they would all leave well enough alone.

Sept 29

Oh please God ! If this is too be my fate at least let me be united with my beloved on our appointed day. Please give me that much time ! Then I can leave this mankind contented in my legal brief but perfect felicity. I promise to set a expert example by my passage as did my beloved babe if only you will give me that much time.

Sep 30

I feel very weak today. What little good sense of Bob Hope I had has washed away in the retard drizzle that continues to decrease alfresco. Somehow I know that the Doctor was veracious, and I shall not be the rare elision who survives this disease. My surgical gown was delivered this morning, but it brought picayune joy to the theatre, the software system sits in the anteroom unopened. It all seems so superfluous. The weeks of planning, all for nothing. I do n't even know why I bother to keep this disc that none will profit by.

Oct 1

My honey Jonathan arrived today, and while the circumstances saddened us both, I feel so much better knowing he is here. The sun also returned to brighten my room. I no longer hope for convalescence. I can not help but feel the end is close. Yet somehow, today that seems more a blessed relief than tragic end. My only when wish is that I come to my end with grace.

Father assured me that I would be laid beside Clarissa. He also assured me that, even though Jonathan was not technically a fellow member of the kinsperson, they consider him as a son already, and that, should he choose, he could be laid beside me, in God 's own time.

October 2

I had the most wondrous aspiration final night. I was walking in the cemetery, near the family burial vault, and there I met my dear sister Clarissa. She was standing by the itinerary, dressed in the beautiful clothes in which she was laid to rest. It was obvious that she was waiting for me because, as I approached, she smiled and greeted me, `` Oh, there you are ! seed, I have something to designate you '' She lead me to the burial vault and the heavy branding iron door simply dissolved before us. I followed her in to where three low stone table stood. The first held a closed casket, the moment held an receptive coffin lined with beautiful white satin and lace. The third was empty.

'' This is my property '' she said, gesturing to the closed coffin. `` Here is yours '', she said, stepping to the empty, exposed casket. `` And this is for your beloved Jonathan, if he so chooses '' `` Come, yield your rest '' I stepped up and into the open empty coffin, and lay down. It felt so safe, quiet down, and peaceful. When I awoke, I was lying on my back, my deal folded as if I were laid for burial. I felt more passive and refreshed than I have for many days.

Oct 3

The mortician came this morning. I looked through his book and ***********ed a casket. A rather dewy-eyed design of White River enameled Ellen Price Wood, lined with satin. He took some measurements, and we discussed the particular of the servicing. I told him that the wedding flowers would do for my funeral as well. I told him my wedding gown and humeral veil to be used for my burial garments. I do want Jonathan to see me in my hymeneals gown, even if it is to be as I lie in my coffin. We discussed my funeral as calmly as I discussed my wedding a few weeks ago. Only now does that look strange.

October 4

I feel so watery today, Jonathan has been here with me all day. It is such a comfort to know he is close. The priest came today as well. For a while we discussed the service, and what would encounter to me. He spoke of the beauties of promised land, and did his best to re-assure me. Still, I know the end is near, and I am so afraid. Oh God, please ... please ... consecrate me peace.

***

Oct 5

Here the diary sketch in another hand

I, Jonathan Douglas, re-start this diary, that the events concerning the passage of my darling Leona may be recorded for posterity. Yesterday Night she took this from beneath her pillow and pressed it into my script, saying she could write no more and the contents might declare oneself me some consolation. After she had gone to kip, I did read, and found great comfort in her calm acceptance of the cataclysm which has befallen her.

Today I witnessed the handing over, or should I say the glorification, of an Angel, for surely she will be among the bonny of all the fair angels in Eden. I pray that I do not swear in this belief.

I was with my dear Leona when she awoke, in much distress. She was feverous and coughing, and seemed very weak, but then about midmorning a strange and beautiful calmness came over her, and she seemed upstage as if she was watching something far away. Of all the people in the room, she seemed to be aware of only me. She lay this way for some time, unmindful to all, even the priest who came to say the cobbler's last religious rite. Then about noonday, she squeezed my bridge player and smiled,

'' facial expression Jonathan '' she said, `` its Clarissa ! '' `` She 's here for our marriage ! '' `` I knew she would fall ''

Then she turned to me and said `` Oh my beloved Jonathan. Now everything is perfect ! ``

With that she closed her eyes and quietly breathed her stopping point. I stayed long by her English, reluctant to let her go.

October 7th

The Mortician has done his obligation. He took Leona from us, and returned her this morning.

Now she rests in the parlor. My God ! she is beautiful, even in dying. She lies there dressed forever in the night-robe that she should have got worn to our marriage in only three days. She seems so peaceful, so happy, as she lies surrounded by flush, the same albumen flowers that were meant for our felicitous day. Instead they will grace her grave.

Tomorrow we will aim her to church, and thence to the bank vault where she will lie for eternity. Her father told me that, there is a place for me there too, should I hope it in time. I feel now that we will be together again soon. For what is a human lifetime in the face of timeless existence ! This thought gives me great peace.

Oct 11

I pray that this diary may stay hidden for many class that what I record now may not bring embarrassment upon my kinsperson or the crime syndicate of any mentioned here. For I have kept my hope to my beloved Leona.

At dusk yesterday, I went to the crypt where she lies at peace. In my fellowship was the cemetery grounds custodian, who for a few distinct dollars, opened the vault that I might infix. Also in my party was a priest, fallen from grace with the church for his passion for several sine of the flesh, the extent of which only I know. I swore not to reveal my knowledge providing that he assisted me and never revealed these minutes. Upon entering the bank vault I opened the casket holding the earthly corpse of my bride, and once again resist silent, amazed at her beauty, as she lay so peaceful and still, in all her marriage ceremony finery. next I opened the coffin of her babe which lay beside her, for if my beloved Leona had her care, Clarissa would have stood beside us at the altar as her maid of honor. Clarissa too, lay as if peacefully asleep, still lovely in her tranquillity, despite the passage of time since she was laid here.

I stood beside my beloved as the priest read the marriage vows, holding her cold, lifeless mitt. I pledged to take her as my married woman, and I answered for her as I knew she would drink to withdraw me for her married man. With the Word of God `` with this ring I do wed '' I placed the golden set on her pallid cold finger. And when the priest pronounced us man and wife, I raised the veil from her expression and gently kissed her cold lifeless lip. I then bid the priest depart, and remained alone in the crypt with my beloved. I lifted her from her resting place, and holding her close, we slowly turned about the room. Her lovely white dress swept the cold-blooded stones as we danced our nuptials waltz. My own desire steadily grew as I swayed with her consistence held tight to mine.

When at last the music in my own straits came to a close, I laid her again in her casket, which was her spousal bed. Not an inappropriate bed I thought, admiring the elegant white satin and lace on which she lay. Lifting the veil from her cheek, I gently kissed her and caressed her face. I stroked her breasts, so strong and cool beneath her satin gown. All the while the heat for her grew in me until I could stand it no longer. Lifting the bird of her apparel, to reveal her femininity, I opened my pants to expose my masculinity. I climbed into the casket and lay atop my beloved, becoming one with her as we would stimulate on our wedding night. Holding her in my passionate embrace, kissing and caressing her cold, still look, I gave her the final gift of our love, and left her with something of myself to remain with her for the ages. I lay thus with her long after my physical pauperization was satisfied, my head resting on her satin covered breast, gently stroking her silky pilus. Somehow I sensed that she was at peace of mind, and for a while at least, I shared that peace.

The morn sun was penetrating the small stain glass window of the vault doorway when I reluctantly rose and separated myself from my beloved. I arranged her dress neatly about her leg and folded her manpower once again at her shank. From the sweetness around the bier I ***********ed a 1 perfect white rose and placed it in her helping hand. I gave her cold lips a final kiss and gently lowered the silky velum over her face. She looked so peaceful, so serene, so beautiful. It was with great difficulty that I closed the casket and left her to her divine last residuum. The morning sun shown brightly as I left the vault. I was filled with a bang-up good sense of joy that made the day seem all the brighter, for it seemed all around me I sensed the presence of my love Leona. I saw her smiling in the dappled sunlight. I heard her laughter in the rustling leaves. I felt her caress in the gentle picnic. Together we walked from the place and back to my everyday world. Yet I know my life, what ever remains of it, will never be the same, for always I will be remembering her with joy, and longing for our last perfect tense union

Here ends the journal of Leona Zimmerman Douglas ...