D-Day

  I stayed away from the colonel most of the night. He and I, both, knew this was his last night to deal with the agony of the past 5 months. I had already procured the medicines that I needed to do the job. Now, it was just a matter of time. I kept asking myself if I could go through with it. I thought that I was ready, emotionally. The actual act was a big question. I had promised the colonel that I would do it tonight. I did not think of the ramifications criminally because I knew that there would be no suspicion of his death. Everyone was expecting him to die, soon. I rationalized that I was just helping the act along. I told myself that he would be free of pain and the tremendous burden on Bunny would be lifted. She could begin to live out the remaining few years of her life without seeing her true love in so much pain. I guess I was still trying to convince myself to go through with it. There was a part of me that said I was doing the wrong thing, that I was playing God. Who am I to decide when a person must die. Then I would hear the colonel's voice and how convincing it was. He was ready.
  I had a fairly busy night and that was okay with me. It kept my mind off the colonel for a few hours. I was sitting at the nurses station when Nancy sat down beside me and asked if everything was okay. My heart skipped a beat. I thought I was hiding my dilemma fairly well. I told her that I had not gotten much sleep that previous day. Which was true. Not to worry, I would be fine. In just a couple more hours I would do something that would alter and haunt my life, forever. I had told no one about my plan. My best friend, Henry Steele, whom I told everything to, did not know. It was my secret and it remained that way for the next 24 years.  theblogmeister

The Light Is Gone

  It is dark outside. I can feel my heart rate exceeding its normal limits. I do not want to go to sleep. Could it be that the more I talk about Him at the conscious level I am giving Him power over me? I capitalize the pronouns for a reason. He is alive, to me. He lives in the dark recesses of my mind waiting on the chance to show His strength. I have tried, in therapy, to depersonalize Him. My therapist thought it important to try and not talk about Him. Use imagery, a type of therapy that uses visualizations to control or change mood and behavior. Everything I learned in therapy made sense to me. I do not understand why, when the sub-conscious takes hold, I still dream of this man. It is probably not a very good idea for me to be writing about Him this close to sleep. I think it may reinforce His presence. If I watched black and white movies all day, will I dream in black and white? I am rambling, doing anything to avoid the inevitable. Will He come, tonight? Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen   theblogmeister