Thursday, December 16, 1993 Feeling down today. I am being sucked into a vacuum. Maybe I am seeing more changes in Howard than I want to. I thought three years was such a reasonable time frame. Please help me God. I need your help. I can’t do this alone.
Friday, December 17, 1993
I went shopping and brought some new clothes. I have let myself go and that’s an ugly realization. I didn’t care what I looked like, and now I want to look pretty for my lover and myself.
In the eerie shadows of darkness my courage fails me. Where is the humor when Howard asks what month is it? As this insidious disease gobbles up his brain, it is also chipping away at the very core of me.
I feel like I am walking around with a time bomb in my pocket. I hear it ticking. I don’t know when it will explode in my face. Howard said I could open the letters he wrote to the grandchildren. I did and felt like a trespasser peeping into his soul.
I wonder how we will survive our misery. I wonder if he will forget my kisses. Right now I am wearing my nakedness like a shield. How long before I am totally naked and unmasked.
Behind the Mask — Helene Moore