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Array
(
[sid] => 2266
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Journal of a Hero
[time] => 2002-08-14 07:11:00
[hometext] => Read it for yourself and enjoy.
[bodytext] => I fought the good fight.
I've taken the risks. I've done all I can, and I'm telling you this. I don't regret anything I've done in my life. I just don't like the thought of there being pain and strife. If we had found a different way, less people would have died. And I wouldn't be feeling this emptiness inside. I look up from my journal to see my doctor walk in. When I looked on his face, I knew the news was grim. He says I won't make it through the night. But I tell him, "So you say, but I won't prove you right." He shakes his head in amazement, at my burst of confidence. He chuckles sadly, and said that me words don't make sense. He says my wife is here to see me, but his words seem far away. It was then that I realized that I'm not here to stay. I nod to him wordlessly, and lay back on my bed. The day felt like torture, and I must rest my head. I've begun to feel strange, and I know I'm fading fast. I wonder, I think, will I be at peace at last? As I ponder this thought, my wife walks in the door. When she looks at me she knows that I can't take it anymore. I look up at her now, and her tears begin to flow. She keeps shaking her head, saying, "I don't want you to go." I nod at her sadly, and she really starts to cry. I hug her, quite strongly, and say, "Thank you and good-bye." As my head hits the bed that one last time, I know that though she misses me, my wife will be fine. I feel like I'm getting pulled in all different directions. But the one thing that will hold past death is my beautiful wife's affection. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 43 [informant] => MrWrite [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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