"Enough for today ... Let’s go back ... I have to be home early", she said. “Next time we’re here, I’ll make a wreath from windflowers. Will you place it on my head?”

“Promise me that I will see you again, that they’re not going to bend you.”

“We will come here again”, she promised, “I swear to you that we’ll come back…”

December 6th 1918

The damned pains never go away. The doctors ordered me to rest. What was I saying? Oh yes! One day my mother asked me to go on a trip. It took me a while to figure out why. It was the period when Ann was supposed to get married. Don’t blame her…

She died two years after the wedding. She started losing weight. Her husband said that she wasn’t listening to anyone, nor was she being cautious. The doctors had told them that she shouldn’t get pregnant. She died before she could breastfeed her child.

When I came back from the trip I stayed indoors for a year without any contact with anybody.

My hair and beard had grown to chest length. The only company I wanted was that of Amelia.

Ann was sick but still alive then. One afternoon in 1909 I heard knocks on the door.

“Open up! It’s me, Amelia!”

I ran downstairs and almost grabbed her from the neck.

“What happened? Is she dead? Tell me!” I asked while shaking her. Her eyes were red.

“Listen to me! You have to come with me right now. She wants to see you.”

Amelia told me she had been asking for me, especially at nighttime. And she kept saying she wanted windflowers. But only today did her husband let her tell me. Today, because the doctors said the end was very near. He wasn’t at home. He had purposely left so that we wouldn’t meet.

The first thought that came to my mind was that I hadn’t even once seen her after her marriage. I couldn’t think of anything else. We waited till nightfall. Their house was one of the finest mansions in the state. We entered and went straight to her room. She sat raised on her bed. Only the sweetness was left to her otherwise withered face. She was dressed in a silk robe and had selected her favorite hairstyle. The first word she uttered was my name. She smiled, expressing as much happiness her face could still express. She stretched out her hand.

I took it in mine and started kissing it.

“You came, Paul! You came!” I’m so glad you came! It’s good to see you one last time, now that the end is near…And since my husband allowed it…”

I knelt down beside her bed and asked her to stop. I told her she’d get better and everything would be ok. She kept pulling my hand towards her pale face and lips and sighed as if relieved.

“The last time you saw her”, said Amelia, “when she swore she would come back, she really believed she could…” Ann was nodding in agreement. “But then life happened and she couldn’t. That’s been a burden in her soul since then and thus she asks you to forgive her…”

I forgave her with all my heart, I kissed her hair just like I used to, and suddenly her face lit up with pleasure.

We let her rest for quite a while and then she told me: “When I’m gone, I want you to visit our hill once in a while. The trees and grass might have something to share with you. Do not forget me. If you stay true to our love and don’t forsake me, I’ll never leave you alone. I’ll be right by your side Paul… by your side and my child’s. Whenever you need me I’ll be there…”

I escorted Amelia to her house and then went back to mine at midnight overwhelmed by a strange mixture of pain and happiness. “What is this?” I wondered, “Why do I feel so confident that I will see her again?”

On Wednesday night I saw her, on Sunday she was dead.

Chronicles from the Future: Diary Page -

January 17 to February 24

Note: Use the arrows at the bottom to navigate between the pages of the book.

January 17th 1919

This morning, at 8:40, was the 2 year anniversary of my revival from my first coma. It was at that time that I opened my eyes and was myself again. I remember it was snowing. My mother was on the floor next to me crying tears of joy. “What happened?” I asked her. I got my answer by our family doctor: “Well, it was about time you woke up! You’ve broken every record!”

Apparently it was some kind of lethargy. I had been asleep for 14 days.

The doctor, wearing a fancy tie, was trying to give me courage. Not only did he not succeed, but instead of laughter, a grotesque grin was spread over his face.

As the months went by and I began to feel better, I regained my courage. In the end, human beings can get used to everything…

“Now you are familiar with my case”, I told the doctor once, “so I shouldn’t fear getting buried alive…”

January 23rd 1919

It’s the fourth misty, cloudy day in a row. What can one do in this weather? No friends come to visit me anymore… I’m reading a history book. Since I was in primary school, history has always had the power to take me away. I remember thinking back then that we were all born

in a certain place and era from a mere coincidence. We could have easily been born in a completely different country, culture and even century, with completely different friends, jobs, lovers. But we wouldn’t be able to know any of the things that were about to happen later, that is, now.

I’m trying to read but I’m pushing myself to do it. Back then I used to really engage with what I read. Not anymore. Today, my loneliness has reached its deepest depth.

February 8th 1919

I started seeing the priest again. He never pressured me to talk and that eased me. Amelia had explained to him that I need time. He respected that. That’s why I went. He said he liked talking to me. I did as well. The conversation with him was always very interesting. He had a positive way of thinking and a clear judgment, free of prejudice and stereotypes. His mind was robust and bright.

I stared at his library. He had almost everything; from the mystics of the East and the Ionian philosophers to the modern philosophers of the Western civilization.

“I see you staring at these worthless books,” he told me as if he could read my mind, “Don’t expect big things from them. I’ve read them all. I know all that’s been said by the brightest minds of all times. But I will never feel the power that real love has to raise you to the highest point of knowledge… I’ll never experience a love like that…”

He turned to me. It was the first time that he, being such a discreet and considerate man had made an allusion to Ann, albeit indirectly. He was looking within me for help, for insights. He was hoping to feel what love is, even just through a description.

“She told me she’d be with me… that I’d feel her close to me from time to time. It’s been ten years since then. Never, not once, have I had a sign from her. You tell me then, father, how does the concept of the imperishable soul that you preach about reconcile with the absolute lack of any communication with those who so loved us?”

“If you’re looking for shelter from the moments of pain I have nothing else to offer you other than faith; any faith. But let us focus on you. And I’m talking to you as a brother, not as a priest. If I were you, I would not place my hopes and future on this promise. All these years you’ve been over-thinking and consuming yourself at the expense of your mental health.

Why? Do you consider this healthy or right? Haven’t you had enough experience to know that you’d better not rely on unrealistic expectations? You need a sign; why should Creation reveal its secrets to you? And why, with the sole excuse of lacking signs, do you discard them altogether? And how are you sure that they haven’t been revealed to you, but found you too blind to notice or understand them?”

I had no counter argument. We sat there for a while opposite each other without talking, and then we left.

That night I said a prayer after a very long time. I asked the Lord to calm me down and show me that my doubts were unjustified; nothing. But then I cried; I managed to cry! Could that have been the sign I was looking for?