Monday, June 29, 2020 Posthumous

I found my husband's diary and decided I needed to record what happened to him. He died sometime during the night, between Sunday, June, 28 to Monday, June 29. He was a father, husband, brother, and friend but most of all, he was a survivor. He was willing to do anything to make sure his family survived. Many times over the past month he has put himself at risk to provide for this family and make sure we survived. James has even gone to great extent to try to ensure the survival of those who he did not know. There was great darkness stirring withing him, I know. I sat here crying as I read a diary full of agony as his humanity slowly was stripped from him. As he went from a loving, caring human being who had trouble killing spiders and he transformed into a cold, hard man willing to do what was necessary to protect those whom he loved the most.

I still saw glimmers of his old self before the end came, before that god sent plague that is slowly killing our race came to claim him. When he made Nadley a rope swing and spent the day pushing her by the cabin, her high pitched squeal ringing through the oaks. When he would sit down to talk things over with Danny, the son he loved so much. We have to move on, it is what he has said so many times. Even now the shed is burning, along with him. Soon he will be nothing more than smoke on the wind and we will have to go back to surviving this world but until that shed is gone, we grieve and then we live.