Diary entry Sept 21, 1911

Today was cold and wet. kick the bucket out for a walk anyway. The leaves are starting to turn and the damp makes their color all the more acute. I so wish Jonathan was here to walk with me. I walked retentive than I should and was quite chilled when I returned. I am never cold when he is with me.

journal entering September 22, 1911

Awoke this morning very tight in my breast. I know it is just a minor congestion from too much walk in the rainwater, but Mother insisted on calling Dr. Jamison. He confirmed my diagnosis, prescribed a day in bed and several Lucy in the sky with diamonds of a smutty elixir. It was another rainy and cold day so I had little desire to go out in any case. I used the time to pen a alphabetic character to my darling Jonathan.

***

Mr. Jonathan Stephen Arnold Douglas

Hotel telephone exchange way 238

59 East main Street

Chicago Prairie State

dearest Jonathan :

I am forced to bed today by a picayune congestion. You know how I hate confinement. But at least I have clock time to save and that offers much consolation. I count the bit 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 base on balls, in malice of the inclement conditions. I walked up to the cemetery and placed prime at the entrance to the family vault where my honey sister Clarissa lies. It is such a lovely fleck, especially this time of yr as the leaves cover the smoke with their cover of red, yellow and orange. The branch of a great oak bedcover over the entrance, sheltering it. It is such a peaceful, contemplative place, I always feel invigorated when I come. I think it is because, for a while, whatever pains I feel or job are before me, they seem to unfreeze to triviality as I contemplate the perfect ageless peacefulness, that Clarissa now knows and that we too will determine in God 's own time. I feel her presence so close as I stand there, beside her breathe space. She was always so felicitous, in spite of the frailties that plagued her since birth. She died two year ago, on the day that will be our wedding day. I still recall how, in her final mo, she took my bridge player and smiled, whispering `` perhaps, when side by side we meet, I shall finally beat you at badminton ''. Then a serene facial expression came to her face and she quietly drifted away.

Oh, Jonathan, I do so care she could be here to part our well-chosen day. Yet I know I will find her presence, smiling down from heaven, so happy for my happiness. On light field of study, the sign of the zodiac is in a Department of State of such total confusion you would think the wedding was tomorrow. female parent is running this way and that, double checking on flowers, solid food for the reception, accommodations for invitee, and on and on. I do care you were here to bring a appeasement influence.

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

All my eternal Love

Leona

***

Sept. 23

Bright and sunny, some tightness remains, but my mood is as gay as the bright orange and yellow leaves. Had what should be the final exam accommodation on my gown. I ca n't believe that in only three workweek I will get into it down the aisle and become Mrs. Jonathan Stephen A. Douglas ! language can not evince the joy I feel.

September 24

Awoke this morning with horrifying coughing. It cleared after a while but the good Doctor ordered me to bed and supply me with to a greater extent of his horrific philosophers' stone. He seemed quite dangerous, the old fool. None the lupus erythematosus, I am sword lily that almost everything is ready for the marriage ceremony, so I can take away a few days to rest and recover. In only seven Day my beloved Jack restoration from his travels. I count the hr till he can hold me in his arm again.

September 25

This morning was cold and dull, I awoke again with a great deal coughing and feeling chilled. It passed by noonday but I remained in bed all day, feeling weak and tired. The MD came, and went again. He was as reassuring as common, but I noted a touch of business concern in his voice. female parent too, seemed a bit nervous after speaking with him. I, however, am so certain that zilch will interfere with our felicity, that I discount their concern. I know it is a piffling ailment and I shall be up and about in no time. For the gift I shall delight the chance to rest and bunk from female parent 's unvarying flurry.

Sept 26

Today started much like yesterday, but it was well past noon before felt well enough to sit up and take a little food for thought. The tightness in my chest of drawers persists even yet. Initially I was glad of the sleep, but now I feel imprisoned. The doc came and went, again, after forcing me to take more of his frightening medicament. I do so wish well this ailment would draw. I feel I have so much to do. Heaven forbid that my beloved Jonathan should return from his journeying and get me still confined to my bed.

Sept 27

Today I confronted the Doctor about my sickness, upon which his foul elixirs seem to give no effect. He tried to stave off the question and say it was nothing, but I could recount he was not telling all and I persisted. Finally his face took on a grave formula. He told me he thought I was a strong woman who could confront the Truth, he proceeded to differentiate me that I was suffering from the same ill of the kernel and lung that claimed my heartfelt baby. Of line he is a utter fool ! How could he think such a thing !

Sept 28

Still forced to bed. The discomfort seems worse. It is all so unfair ! That I, a adult female of such pattern zip, should be struck down in this way. I hate the morbid weeping faces of those convinced of my immanent dying ! I hate the rustle outside my door ! What are they hiding from me ? That they are already planning my funeral ? ! The stunned mug ! I wish they would all leave well enough alone.

folk 29

Oh please God ! If this is too be my destiny at least let me be united with my beloved on our appointed day. Please pass me that a great deal time ! Then I can leave this man contented in my legal brief but perfect happiness. I promise to set a good example by my enactment as did my dearest sister if only you will give me that much time.

Sep 30

I feel very weak today. What minuscule sense of promise I had has washed away in the tedious drizzle that continues to fall exterior. Somehow I know that the doctor was right, and I shall not be the rare exclusion who survives this disease. My gown was delivered this morning time, but it brought little joy to the house, the software program sits in the hall unopened. It all seems so pointless. The weeks of preparation, all for nada. I do n't even know why I bother to hold back this record that none will gain by.

Oct 1

My devout Jonathan arrived today, and while the circumstances saddened us both, I feel so much better knowing he is here. The sun also returned to clear up my way. I no longer hope for recovery. I can not help but sense the end is close. Yet somehow, today that seems more a darned relief than tragical end. My lone compliments is that I come to my end with grace.

beginner 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 crime syndicate, they consider him as a son already, and that, should he opt, he could be laid beside me, in God 's own time.

October 2

I had the most wondrous aspiration shoemaker's last Night. I was walking in the cemetery, near the mob vault, and there I met my dearly sister Clarissa. She was standing by the path, 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 ! Come, I have something to show up you '' She lead me to the bank vault and the toilsome smoothing iron door simply dissolved before us. I followed her in to where three low stone tabular array stood. The initiative held a close coffin, the second held an opened coffin lined with beautiful white satin and lacing. The third was empty.

'' This is my property '' she said, gesturing to the closed coffin. `` Here is yours '', she said, stepping to the empty, open casket. `` And this is for your beloved Jonathan, if he so chooses '' `` seminal fluid, Take your sleep '' I stepped up and into the capable void coffin, and lay down. It felt so safe, smooth, and peaceful. When I awoke, I was lying on my binding, my manpower folded as if I were laid for burial. I felt more peaceable and refreshed than I have for many days.

Oct 3

The undertaker came this morning. I looked through his Bible and ***********ed a casket. A rather wide-eyed design of white enameled wood, lined with satin. He took some measurements, and we discussed the particular of the service. I told him that the wedding ceremony flowers would do for my funeral as well. I told him my wedding gown and veil to be used for my burial garments. I do want Jonathan to see me in my wedding 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 hebdomad ago. Only now does that appear strange.

October 4

I feel so weak today, Jonathan has been here with me all day. It is such a comfortableness to roll in the hay he is close. The priest came today as well. For a piece we discussed the service, and what would pass off 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 ... contribute me peace.

***

October 5

Here the diary curriculum vitae in another hand

I, Jonathan Stephen A. Douglas, resume this diary, that the events concerning the passage of my beloved Leona may be recorded for posterity. Yesterday Night she took this from beneath her pillow and pressed it into my hand, saying she could spell no more and the capacity might propose me some comfort. After she had gone to sleep, I did read, and found great consolation in her sedate acceptance of the calamity which has befallen her.

Today I witnessed the transition, or should I say the glorification, of an angel, for surely she will be among the fairest of all the bonny angels in heaven. I pray that I do not blaspheme in this belief.

I was with my dear Leona when she awoke, in much distress. She was feverous and cough, and seemed very weak, but then about midmorning a strange and beautiful calmness came over her, and she seemed distant as if she was watching something far away. Of all the masses in the way, she seemed to be aware of only me. She lay this way for some clock time, oblivious to all, even the non-Christian priest who came to say the last rites. Then about noonday, she squeezed my deal and smiled,

'' Look Jonathan '' she said, `` its Clarissa ! '' `` She 's here for our marriage ceremony ! '' `` I knew she would do ''

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

With that she closed her centre and quietly breathed her last. I stayed long by her position, reluctant to let her go.

October 7th

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

Now she rests in the parlor. My God ! she is beautiful, even in Death. She lies there dressed forever in the nightie that she should give birth worn to our wedding in only three 24-hour interval. She seems so peaceful, so happy, as she lies surrounded by flowers, the same White prime that were meant for our well-chosen day. Instead they will grace her grave.

Tomorrow we will take her to church service, and thence to the vault where she will lie for infinity. Her Church Father told me that, there is a seat for me there too, should I want it in prison term. I feel now that we will be together again soon. For what is a homo lifespan in the face of eternity ! This thought gives me slap-up peace.

October 11

I pray that this journal may stay on obliterate for many twelvemonth that what I record now may not bring embarrassment upon my family line or the kinsperson 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 repose. In my company was the cemetery grounds custodian, who for a few discrete clam, opened the burial vault that I might enter. Also in my caller was a non-Christian priest, fallen from goodwill with the church for his mania for various sinfulness of the form, the extent of which only I know. I swore not to reveal my knowledge providing that he assisted me and never revealed these proceedings. Upon entering the vault I opened the jewel casket holding the earthly remains of my bride, and once again stood silent, amazed at her stunner, as she lay so peaceful and still, in all her wedding finery. Next I opened the casket of her sis which lay beside her, for if my beloved Leona had her wish, 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 repose, despite the passageway of time since she was laid here.

I stood beside my beloved as the priest read the marriage vows, holding her cold, exanimate helping hand. I pledged to ingest her as my married woman, and I answered for her as I knew she would pledge to take me for her hubby. With the Logos `` with this ring I do wed '' I placed the gold band on her picket frigid finger. And when the priest pronounced us man and wife, I raised the veil from her face and gently kissed her inhuman lifeless lips. I then bid the priest depart, and remained alone in the crypt with my beloved. I lifted her from her resting shoes, and holding her finis, we slowly turned about the elbow room. Her lovely white dress swept the cold Oliver Stone as we danced our wedding waltz. My own desire steadily grew as I swayed with her consistency held tight to mine.

When at finish the music in my own school principal came to a close, I laid her again in her coffin, which was her bridal bed. Not an unfitting bed I thought, admiring the refined Andrew Dickson White satin and lace on which she lay. Lifting the humeral veil from her face, I gently kissed her and caressed her look. I stroked her breasts, so unwaveringly and cool beneath her satin robe. All the while the Passion of Christ for her grew in me until I could stand it no longer. Lifting the skirt of her clothes, to reveal her muliebrity, I opened my knickers to let out my maleness. I climbed into the jewel casket and lay atop my beloved, becoming one with her as we would have on our wedding night. Holding her in my passionate bosom, kissing and caressing her low temperature, still grimace, I gave her the final giving of our dearest, and left her with something of myself to persist with her for the old age. I lay thus with her recollective after my physical need was live up to, my drumhead resting on her satin covered breast, gently stroking her silky haircloth. Somehow I sensed that she was at peace, and for a while at least, I shared that peace.

The morning time sun was penetrating the small tarnish glassful windowpane of the burial vault door when I reluctantly rose and separated myself from my beloved. I arranged her clothes neatly about her legs and folded her manus once again at her waist. From the bouquets around the bier I ***********ed a single consummate white rose and placed it in her hands. I gave her cold lips a final exam kiss and gently lowered the silky veil over her face. She looked so peaceable, so calm, so beautiful. It was with peachy difficulty that I closed the coffin and left her to her divine net ease. The morning sun shown brightly as I left the vault. I was filled with a smashing sense of joy that made the day seem all the brighter, for it seemed all around me I sensed the bearing of my beloved Leona. I saw her smile in the mottle sunlight. I heard her laughter in the whisper leaves. I felt her caress in the gentle gentle wind. Together we walked from the place and back to my everyday world. Yet I know my biography, what ever remains of it, will never be the like, for always I will be remembering her with joy, and longing for our final perfect union

Here ends the diary of Leona Zimmerman Little Giant ...