The Man With No Reflection London, December 7th, 1952
I fear for my sanity.
The more I toss it over in my head, the more I become convinced of my madness, but there is no way on God's green Earth that I can forget the sight, or lack of one, nor the sudden fright in my heart. I've never been so startled and Jan laughed to see me so pale. But then, he didn't see what I did. Or didn't see as the case may be. Im really beginning to wonder about my dear friend; he seems even stranger to me now, and I have such disturbances of the imagination that its shameful to dwell on them. But I cannot help myself, especially not when such peculiar things happen whenever hes around.
I was adjusting my tie when I had my first great fright. I thought I heard my bedroom door open and close but as I saw no one enter in the reflection of the mirror then I remained focused on the task at hand. I am rarely without a shirt and tie, as I always feel so much more comfortable in smart apparel and therefore I am ri
Silver LiningThat child had very quickly became his everything, his reason for those rare, distant but fond smiles, his reason for breathing, just his reason for waking and living every single day. Not that the boy knew it of course; he was quite happily oblivious to his fathers overwhelming affection and indeed he didnt love one parent more than any other. He loved his mother and father equally, but he seemed to understand on some deep level that his father found it hard to show affection and therefore understood how incredibly special it was when his father lit up at the mere sight of him.
The child smiled sleepily as he descended the stairs, his face still pale from sleep and his eyes still heavy. But his lips tugged upwards when the old man sat back in his chair and beckoned him closer.
Gmorning, was the long yawn, his tiny body stretching weakly.
I think you mean good evening, came the amused reply
Dont matter, the child complained an
Failure of the Father Lent, 1928
His hands were clasped so tightly in prayer that his knuckles shone bone white. He ignored the concerned stares of his eldest daughter and closed his eyes, whispering his desperate prayers to the Almighty Father in Heaven. God Himself never spoke back, never whispered consoling promises in his ears but somehow his wretched heart felt a little soothed when he prayed.
He only ever prayed for one thing; he only ever asked God to return his most precious treasure to him, the treasure he had so wrongly given away. Every minute of every day he thought of the boy, expecting to see him around every corner, to hear his sweet little voice at the top of the stairs calling to him. But instead Jans chair sat empty, his hideaway camp bed lay cold, and the toys he left behind sat useless and unloved in their places along the window sill.
But Iosef never felt his absence so keenly than at church, the tiny spot that had always been set aside had been invaded and claimed by his