journal Entry Sept 21, 1911

Today was common cold and wet. Went out for a walk anyway. The leaves are starting to change state and the moistness makes their color all the more intense. I so regard Jonathan was here to walk with me. I walked longer than I should and was quite chilled when I returned. I am never cold when he is with me.

diary entryway September 22, 1911

Awoke this morning very tight in my chest. I know it is just a fry congestion from too a lot walking in the rain, but female parent insisted on calling Dr. Judith Jamison. He confirmed my diagnosing, prescribed a day in bed and various doses of a nasty elixir. It was another rainy and low temperature day so I had trivial desire to go out in any case. I used the time to write a missive to my dear Jonathan.

***

Mr. Jonathan Douglas

Hotel Central way 238

59 due east briny Street

Chicago Prairie State

Dearest Jonathan :

I am forced to bed today by a niggling over-crowding. You know how I hate confinement. But at least I have time to save and that offers a good deal solace. I count the minutes till you return and we are forever joined. I can not say enough how happy it makes me knowing that I will soon be your wife.

Yesterday I went for a walk, in spitefulness of the inclement weather. I walked up to the necropolis and placed flowers at the incoming to the kin vault where my dear sister Clarissa lies. It is such a endearing position, especially this sentence of yr as the leaves cover the green goddess with their blanket of red, xanthous and orange. The branches of a great oak gap over the entrance, sheltering it. It is such a peaceful, reflective place, I always feel reinvigorated when I come. I think it is because, for a while, whatever pains I feel or trouble are before me, they seem to unthaw to triviality as I contemplate the perfect eternal peace, that Clarissa now knows and that we too will find in God 's own time. I feel her mien so close as I stand there, beside her resting place. She was always so happy, in venom of the frailness that plagued her since birth. She died two years ago, on the day that will be our wedding day. I still come back how, in her terminal second, she took my hand and smiled, whispering `` perhaps, when next we meet, I shall finally beat you at badminton ''. Then a unagitated expression came to her face and she quietly drifted away.

Oh, Jonathan, I do so wish she could be here to portion our happy day. Yet I know I will palpate her presence, smiling down from heaven, so happy for my happiness. On lighter study, the household is in a state of such total confusion you would think the wedding ceremony was tomorrow. Mother is running this way and that, double checking on heyday, food for the reception, accommodations for guests, and on and on. I do wish you were here to lend a appeasement influence.

Oh Jonathan, please predict me that you will let nil delay your riposte and that no matter what happens, we will be united on the appointed day.

All my interminable Love

Leona

***

Sept. 23

Bright and sunny, some closeness remains, but my mood is as gay as the bright orange and chicken leaves. Had what should be the final adjustment on my gown. I ca n't believe that in only three weeks I will fall apart it down the aisle and become Mrs. Jonathan Little Giant ! Words can not utter the joy I feel.

September 24

Awoke this good morning with horrible cough. It cleared after a while but the serious Doctor ordered me to bed and plied me with Sir Thomas More of his awful elixir. He seemed quite grave, the old tomfool. None the less, I am glad that almost everything is ready for the wedding, so I can submit a few years to breathe and recover. In only seven day my beloved Jack returns from his travels. I count the hours till he can hold me in his branch again.

September 25

This forenoon was cold and damp, I awoke again with very much coughing and notion chilled. It passed by twelve noon but I remained in bed all day, feeling frail and tired. The Doctor of the Church came, and went again. He was as reassure as usual, but I noted a tinge of headache in his vocalization. Mother too, seemed a bit anxious after speaking with him. I, however, am so certain that zilch will interfere with our happiness, that I discount their fear. I know it is a little ill and I shall be up and about in no time. For the present I shall enjoy the chance to perch and scat from female parent 's incessant flurry.

Sept 26

Today started much like yesterday, but it was well past twelve noon before felt well enough to sit up and acquire a minuscule food. The tightfistedness in my chest persists even yet. Initially I was sword lily of the rest, but now I feel put behind bars. The doctor came and went, again, after forcing me to film More of his awful medicine. I do so bid this ailment would pass. I feel I have so much to do. Heaven forbid that my beloved Jonathan should turn back from his journey and find 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 upshot. He tried to forefend the question and say it was nothing, but I could tell he was not telling all and I persisted. Finally his side took on a inscribe expression. He told me he thought I was a strong woman who could look the truth, he proceeded to secernate me that I was suffering from the Lapp complaint of the ticker and lung that claimed my high-priced Sister. Of course he is a perfective tense fool ! How could he think such a affair !

Sept 28

Still forced to bed. The soreness seems worse. It is all so unjust ! That I, a adult female of such normal vigor, should be struck down in this way. I hate the morbid weeping faces of those convinced of my immanent dying ! I hate the whispers outside my doorway ! What are they hiding from me ? That they are already planning my funeral ? ! The pudden-head sucker ! I wish they would all leave well enough alone.

kinfolk 29

Oh please God ! If this is too be my circumstances at least let me be united with my beloved on our appointed day. Please give me that a great deal prison term ! Then I can go out this world contented in my brief but staring happiness. I promise to set a well deterrent example by my passage as did my beloved baby if only you will give me that a lot time.

Sept 30

I feel very weak today. What little sensory faculty of hope I had has washed away in the tedious mizzle that continues to strike outside. Somehow I know that the doctor was right, and I shall not be the rarefied exclusion who survives this disease. My gown was delivered this morning, but it brought fiddling joy to the sign of the zodiac, the computer software sits in the hall unopened. It all seems so senseless. The calendar week of planning, all for nothing. I do n't even bonk why I bother to prevent this record that none will profit by.

October 1

My dearest Jonathan arrived today, and while the circumstance 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 recovery. I can not help but feel the end is close. Yet somehow, today that seems more a blessed relievo than tragic end. My only 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 phallus of the family, they consider him as a son already, and that, should he prefer, he could be laid beside me, in God 's own time.

Oct 2

I had the most marvelously dream last night. I was walking in the graveyard, near the family vault, and there I met my dear sister Clarissa. She was standing by the path, dressed in the beautiful apparel 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 ! Come, I have something to demo you '' She lead me to the vault and the heavy atomic number 26 door simply dissolved before us. I followed her in to where three low stone mesa stood. The number one held a closed coffin, the second held an open coffin lined with beautiful white satin and lace. The third base was empty.

'' This is my post '' she said, gesturing to the shut down coffin. `` Here is yours '', she said, stepping to the empty, open casket. `` And this is for your dear Jonathan, if he so chooses '' `` Come, payoff your rest '' I stepped up and into the open air void coffin, and lay down. It felt so good, quiet down, and peaceful. When I awoke, I was lying on my cover, my hands folded as if I were laid for burial. I felt more peaceful and refreshed than I have for many days.

October 3

The undertaker came this morning. I looked through his book and ***********ed a casket. A rather dewy-eyed design of flannel enameled Wood, lined with satin. He took some measuring, and we discussed the detail of the service. I told him that the wedding peak would do for my funeral as well. I told him my wedding nightie and veil to be used for my burial garments. I do need Jonathan to see me in my hymeneals nightdress, even if it is to be as I lie in my casket. We discussed my funeral as calmly as I discussed my wedding a few hebdomad ago. Only now does that seem strange.

October 4

I feel so washy today, Jonathan has been here with me all day. It is such a comforter to know he is close. The non-Christian priest came today as well. For a piece we discussed the service, and what would happen to me. He spoke of the beauties of heaven, and did his best to re-assure me. Still, I know the end is near, and I am so afraid. Oh God, please ... please ... leave me peace.

***

October 5

Here the diary resume in another hand

I, Jonathan Douglas, resume this diary, that the events concerning the handing over of my beloved Leona may be recorded for posterity. Yesterday dark she took this from beneath her pillow and pressed it into my hand, saying she could publish no more and the contents might offer up me some comfort. After she had gone to sleep, I did show, and found great comforter in her composure toleration of the catastrophe which has befallen her.

Today I witnessed the passage, or should I say the glory, of an holy man, for surely she will be among the fairest of all the fair angels in Shangri-la. I pray that I do not blaspheme in this belief.

I was with my dearly Leona when she awoke, in a great deal distress. She was feverish and coughing, and seemed very imperfect, but then about midmorning a strange and beautiful composure came over her, and she seemed distant as if she was watching something far away. Of all the masses in the elbow room, she seemed to be aware of only me. She lay this way for some fourth dimension, forgetful to all, even the priest who came to say the survive ritual. Then about noon, she squeezed my hand and smiled,

'' Look Jonathan '' she said, `` its Clarissa ! '' `` She 's here for our wedding ! '' `` I knew she would come ''

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

With that she closed her eyes and quietly breathed her concluding. I stayed long by her side of meat, reluctant to let her go.

October 7th

The funeral undertaker has done his duty. He took Leona from us, and returned her this morning.

Now she rests in the sitting room. My God ! she is beautiful, even in demise. She lies there dressed forever in the robe that she should have worn to our marriage ceremony in only three daylight. She seems so peaceful, so happy, as she lies surrounded by bloom, the same clean prime that were meant for our glad day. Instead they will adorn her grave.

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

October 11

I pray that this diary may remain veil for many age that what I record now may not bring superfluity upon my family or the families of any mentioned here. For I have kept my hope to my beloved Leona.

At gloaming yesterday, I went to the crypt where she lies at peace. In my caller was the cemetery grounds steward, who for a few distinct clam, opened the vault that I might infix. Also in my company was a non-Christian priest, fallen from saving grace with the church for his Passion of Christ for assorted sins of the flesh, the extent of which only I know. I swore not to reveal my noesis providing that he assisted me and never revealed these proceedings. Upon entering the vault I opened the casket holding the earthly remains of my bride, and once again stood silent, amazed at her beauty, as she lay so passive and still, in all her wedding finery. side by side I opened the casket of her Sister which lay beside her, for if my beloved Leona had her wish, Clarissa would own stood beside us at the altar as her maidservant of honor. Clarissa too, lay as if peacefully asleep, still lovely in her serenity, despite the enactment of time since she was laid here.

I stood beside my beloved as the priest read the marriage vows, holding her cold, exanimate hand. I pledged to take her as my wife, and I answered for her as I knew she would drink to take me for her hubby. With the words `` with this closed chain I do wed '' I placed the gold band on her sick cold finger's breadth. And when the priest pronounced us man and wife, I raised the veil from her human face and gently kissed her coldness lifeless lips. I then bid the non-Christian priest depart, and remained alone in the crypt with my beloved. I lifted her from her resting place, and holding her conclusion, we slowly turned about the room. Her lovely Stanford White attire swept the insensate Harlan Fiske Stone as we danced our wedding waltz. My own desire steadily grew as I swayed with her body held miserly to mine.

When at live the music in my own head came to a conclusion, I laid her again in her coffin, which was her bridal bed. Not an unfit bed I thought, admiring the graceful white satin and lacing on which she lay. Lifting the embryonic membrane from her brass, I gently kissed her and caressed her face. I stroked her breasts, so business firm and sang-froid beneath her satin nightie. All the while the passion for her grew in me until I could stand it no longer. Lifting the skirt of her frock, to reveal her muliebrity, I opened my drawers to scupper my maleness. I climbed into the coffin and lay atop my beloved, becoming one with her as we would have on our wedding dark. Holding her in my passionate embrace, kissing and caressing her cold, still face, I gave her the last gift of our lovemaking, and left her with something of myself to rest with her for the geezerhood. I lay thus with her longsighted after my physical pauperism was fulfill, my head resting on her satin covered white meat, gently stroking her slick hair's-breadth. Somehow I sensed that she was at peace, and for a spell at least, I shared that peace.

The morning sun was penetrating the small stain looking glass windowpane of the bank vault doorway when I reluctantly rose and separated myself from my beloved. I arranged her dress neatly about her legs and folded her manpower once again at her waist. From the redolence around the bier I ***********ed a single thoroughgoing White person rose and placed it in her hands. I gave her cold lips a net kiss and gently lowered the silky humeral veil over her fount. She looked so peaceful, so calm, so beautiful. It was with great trouble that I closed the casket and left her to her Almighty final residue. The dawning sun shown brightly as I left the vault. I was filled with a dandy horse sense of joy that made the day seem all the brighter, for it seemed all around me I sensed the mien of my dearest Leona. I saw her smiling in the dappled sunshine. I heard her laugh in the rustling leaves. I felt her caress in the gentle breeze. Together we walked from the office and back to my unremarkable world. Yet I know my biography, what ever remains of it, will never be the same, for always I will be remembering her with joy, and longing for our final perfective conglutination

Here ends the journal of Leona Zimmerman Douglas ...