June 14, 1942

Last night I went out with a few friends and we shared some fond memories of my friend's sister. Afterwards I went home feeling a little down. It made me think of the loss of my grandmother as well. I brought out the journal and started to read. I so wanted to skip past this entry but I promised myself I would work through it chronologically.

Dad came home today sad and with a little baby boy in is arms. There is good
news and bad news. Good news is this is your brother. You need to help me take
care of him.

I started to tear up. I could already guess the bad news was mom
was dead. But as dad revealed it I was surprised. They did not kill her, she died
giving birth. The men felt bad so they let dad keep my brother.

It is hard to describe how I am feeling now because I feel so many emotions all at once. I
feel guilt that I caused this because I did not scream. I feel joy because I now have a brother. I feel sad because mom will never come home.

My cousin looked over at me and said, "You are a prophet". My dad yelled at him, "You are never to tell anyone this or her life will be in danger. They are looking for
people with the gift.

Dad is taking things very hard. I don't know what to do. I took the baby from him and cuddled him. My own brother. God has taken away my mom but given me a brother.

I guess the take away for me is that sometimes death brings life, sometimes bad things bring out good. It may not be initially apparent but its true. The things each of us do in our lifetime have such a big impact on everyone else. This is how we go on forever.