The Diary

Alice slipped her leg out of the bed and then very silently pulled the other one out and stood in the darkness of their bedroom; she didn’t bother to put on her robe but left the room and went down the hall into the kitchen. She turned on the light over the stove, took some tea from the refrigerator, poured herself a glass and tried to decide what was bothering her. Looking at the clock in the kitchen she saw that it was 2:15 am, it was now Friday morning June 9, 1945. She walked into the living room, got the picture of her son and pulled the kitchen drawer all the way out and retrieved her diary from the very back of the drawer. She begin to pin some notes on that Friday morning of June 9, stained by the tears flowing from her eyes she replaced the diary, put the drawer back in the cabinet, drink her tea and wept some more, she did not know why but she just wept.

On Thursday afternoon of June 22 she saw her pastor standing at the front door even before he began to knock. She opened the door and saw the Western Union Messenger standing beside him, now she began to feel weak. Their community like so many small and large towns had a link between the pastor’s group and Western Union so that a pastor could accompany the tragic news to the family.

The man read it slowly and then handed her the telegram, her pastor held her for a moment and then others whom he had called begin to walk up the steps to the house.

That night after everyone had gone and her husband was trying to go to sleep, she again took the picture of their son to the kitchen got her diary and begin to write.

Three weeks later they received a letter from her son’s captain telling them what a find son they had and how he had been with him on the morning of June 9, 1944 when a mortar hit their location taking their son’s life. That night she again wrote in her diary after all in the house were asleep.

Thirty-four years later in August of 1978 as her husband prepared to clean out the house after her death and get it ready to sell he found the diary. It was then he discovered that at the time their son had been killed his mother was awake in the kitchen writing in her diary that she was greatly disturbed and worried about him.

I wonder how many of the other more than 416,000 mothers had such moments and shed such tears. Our debt is not only to those who paid the price of freedom with their lives but also to all the mothers, fathers, wives, and family who shared in their sacrifice. Ivan

Published in: on May 17, 2015 at 11:22 pm  Leave a Comment  

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