The Beginning Seemed To Be The End

“If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” 
― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms






           I suppose that when one keeps a diary, one presumes that at some point your memoirs will be read by someone other than yourself.  I imagine that understanding your own mortality may have something to do with this.  We all die.  Death is something in this world that is morbidly comforting in it's consistency.  Sure we all view it differently, whether it be with fear or acceptance, but you have to appreciate it's efficiency.  

          The first page of the diary was interesting because it wasn't dated like the rest of the pages.  It seemed to be a page of acknowledgement.  Alabama had come to a point in his life where he knew that time had caught up with him.  He knew that these were the last words that he would ever write, and he wrote them with a sense of comfort.  A sense of appreciation.  There is a tone in the words of a man who was totally at peace with where he was in the world.  There is no frantic thoughts of pain or fear of what follows, just peace.  I myself can only hope to feel the same when it is my time.  Maybe in my last moments, I will think of this.

Good-bye Coyot

          Upon the reception of this journal, which was in my younger days I admit, I scoffed at the idea of taking the time to invest my thoughts and deeds onto paper.  What was a happen chance at the time, leaving the very first page free of writing was most assuredly not intentional, has come to be a means to end at the beginning.  The end has come for me.  While I sit here, pondering in my thoughts, my soul is preparing to leave this earth and cast itself skyward towards the horizon.  
     
     Due to the circumstances in which I will soon depart, I am sure that someone will happen upon this old journal.  Also, due to the nature of mans curiosity and inquisitiveness, I know that these pages shall be read.  To my reader, I ask that you please declare to all who knew me that there is no trepidation and that I am happy.  My affairs should be handled by Mr. Schroeder operating out of San Antonio.  

     As I am confident that the study of these accounts will not conclude with the opening page, I request that an empathetic mind be prevalent while analyzing the thoughts and behaviors of my person through the years.  Understand the circumstances that motivated my decisions and maybe even consider your own reactions to situations.  I hold that there have been lives impacted by the actions that are within, some of which I am aware of, and I am contented with the conclusions.  I am thankful for all whom I have encountered in my travels and all that I have received in their companionship.

     It is in our final moments that we piece together the puzzles that had been laid out before us.  All has made sense to me now and how I've come to be who I am.  It's as if God has brought everything together in one final glimpse of joy and understanding...  

[There is a round spot on the page here where the paper is a darker.  The writing pauses in between and seems to move on to a different thought]

     So, for one final time, I howl at the moon and stare off at the stars.  A little buckaroo on a mission from far.  Though the days a comin and the night soon fades.  I thank you Lord for another new day.