February 11, 1961
On this day we welcome to the world our healthy son, Peter Thomas Kirkland. He weighs nearly three kilograms. Our happiness knows no bounds. We bought this journal in hopes that we may record our family's milestones. Below is a copy of Peter's footprint.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
February 15, 1961
Lotte and Peter arrived at home safely on the fourteenth of February. Alfred insists that we should have bought a baby book instead of an 'animal skin' paged book. We have repeatedly told him that it was made from trees. Matthew has taken to Peter quite well and has been at his beck and call. The twins both do their best to care for their little brother.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 2, 1961
We've been meaning to record the latest developments, but we have yet to make a schedule seeing as Peter likes very much to wake up for impromptu dinners. Peter has been learning how to walk stand as his brothers take turns holding him up. Judging from the small shifting in his legs, he's doing his very best to walk on his own. Lotte has been praising his adept skills when it comes to lying down and smiling.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 3, 1961
Arthur has gotten that promotion that we needed! We're all very happy with our new addition to the family and Arthur's career advancements. Fifteen years ago I would have never guessed that we would be blessed with such a wonderful family and luck. Peter's starting to look more and more like the rest of the family every day. Alfred is showing Peter all the exciting things to do in life and Matthew reminds him that Peter is just a baby and still has a bit of growing to do.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 4, 1961
Arthur had to take care of the boys all by himself today. I decided to take some time to write down the journal entry. Every so often I've been hearing the boys shout and run up and down the halls. Arthur promptly shushes them and insists that they have to be quiet for their mother to sleep. I've gotten up whenever I heard Peter cry. Arthur insists that I stay in bed. I suppose I just can't help myself.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 10, 1961
Lotte is over her cold and has immediately returned to holding Peter against her side as she goes about maintaining the household. She assures me that Peter falls right to sleep.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 13, 1961
Peter had his first checkup today. He was very patient for the thirty minute wait. He caught up on his sleeping as well. Arthur wrote down all of the doctor's advice. Peter has recently begun playing with his fingers and toes. We're still holding his nose hostage.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
April 12, 1961
Lotte took Peter to his second checkup yesterday. He has had his first round of vaccines. Lotte assures me that Peter was extremely brave and cooperative. Peter has taken to copying Alfred and Matthew whenever they make silly faces. We hope he doesn't try to copy his brothers when it comes to cycling tricks.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
April 28, 1961
Peter has graciously decided to start skipping his second dinners. Lotte and I have figured out Peter's language. We pulled out a page of the journal to write down the Crying Chart. It is now taped to the kitchen cabinet so all of the family can see it and translate Peter's particular cries. Alfred does pushups with Peter regularly to ensure that Peter's upper body muscles become strong. Matthew has helped feed Peter on more than one occasion. Lotte has no doubts that we'll be able to trust Peter in the twins' hands when it comes time for her to go back to her job.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
July 13, 1961
We're noticing all sorts of amazing things Peter has accomplished in just five months. He's taken to soft, solid foods and - since last night – he has begun growing his first teeth. We predict that neither of us will get much sleep anymore, but it is certainly worth it. Oftentimes when Arthur gets up to tend to Peter, Matthew is already in the nursery, calming him. Both Arthur and I are very well aware of Matthew's heart of gold. We only wish that he could see it.
-Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
October 14, 1961
Earlier today Peter fell down the stairs when he was trying to crawl down them. Arthur immediately rushed him to the hospital and it seems that the biggest worries are bruises. We're very lucky that he only fell down three stairs in his adventures of crawling.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
November 20, 1961
Lotte has told me that she listens in on the children as they often talk amongst each other. She's explained how interesting it is to hear Matthew and Alfred talking back and forth. They allow pauses so Peter can get in his intelligible compilation of consonants and vowels. Their favorite topic of conversation concerns the need for a Ford Galaxie Starliner.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
January 5, 1962
A few days ago, Alfred began his first job. He gets up extremely early to deliver the morning paper to everyone on his paper route. Lotte and I are very proud, but we are not surprised that Alfred has put forth such determination to do well. We've always known that he's a hard worker.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
January 26, 1962
Alfred is determined to have Peter's first word be his name. Lotte sometimes catches Alfred pointing at things and naming them, making sure Peter knows that his name is Alfred.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
February 2, 1962
Alfred has been successful. Peter's first word is 'Alfred' (or at least some form of it).
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
February 11, 1962
Today the family celebrated Peter's first birthday. We're quite confident that he enjoyed the cake or at least the small samples that made it in his mouth. He certainly thought it to be a playful face covering. Matthew helped to give Peter a bath whereas Alfred found it more fun to coax Peter into splashing Matthew.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
March 9, 1963
We haven't written in this journal for so long. Regrettably, Lotte and I have had less and less time to write down entries. Matthew and Alfred are going to be seventeen this year. Matthew still volunteers at the library and Alfred still has his paper route. Everything is smooth sailing concerning my own work. Lotte has had to take a few breaks with her job. It has taken quite a substantial amount of persuasion, but I managed to convince Lotte to lighten her load. She's ecstatic to spend more of her time with Peter and even though it was hard for her to give up her job, it seems that she's breathing easier now.
- Lotte and Arthur Kirkland
April 30, 1964
As of lately, we've become well acquainted with the hospital. Thankfully, no one's had any accidents. I only have had some appointments in the past few months. I don't quite understand it when people say that they're afraid of hospitals. It's wonderfully therapeutic to talk to everyone here. The day nurse that tends to me has a daughter working her way through medical school. Her son has chosen to explore Australia. I've made friends with a little girl who is staying in a room down the hall. She visits me and I visit her. We've talked about life and we've talked about the bad things in it. It's astonishing how children view things. I had forgotten about that point of view. Even though Matthew and Alfred have already developed their own ways to responding to the world and her tragedies, I hope that Peter can grow to have a positive outlook on life.
- Lotte Kirkland
May 1, 1964
The family visits every day they can. I hear all about Alfred's academic accomplishments and Matthew's ice hockey team. Peter draws me very lovely pictures. I want to see how they would look pressed in an album. Arthur tries to be strong in front of me and the children, but I can see how scared he is. I try to assure him that my procedure will be quite successful and that the surgeon's statistics are extremely reliable. I'll be back on my feet in no time at all.
- Lotte Kirkland
May 2, 1964
The little girl from the room down the hall gave me a rose from the bouquet she received. It was heartwarming to see her so excited over it. I'm very grateful that she decided to share her rose with me. I told her a story about when I was little – about how sometimes I would pick flowers with my two best friends. She seemed to like it. We found out that we have our procedures on the same day! How lucky! We decided that we'll be twins for Monday.
- Lotte Kirkland
May 3, 1964
Just thirteen more hours until the procedure. I'm living it up with the night nurse. Apparently the new nurse has his eye on the pediatrician. She's been dropping all sorts of hints over the past few months, but he's too shy to do anything other than favors and errands for her - until yesterday! He had asked her to dinner and she accepted in passing. When I'm okay to move around again, I'll have to ask my nurse about the progress.
- Lotte Kirkland
July 8, 1964
I must offer my sincerest apologies for not writing in this journal for so long. Our family has experienced heavy and difficult times in the past year. I apologize should this page be dotted with any liquid other than ink. Even though an extremely loving, compassionate, and dear member of our family has passed on and another insisted on venturing out into the world a little too early, I am told to focus on the positives. Matthew has recently turned eighteen and Peter has grown to be a healthy child of four years. I'm irrevocably thankful that fate has allowed me to care for Peter and Matthew despite the cruel hand she has dealt me. I myself am working hard and spending every moment of my free time trying to focus on raising Peter and guiding Matthew for the transition between adolescent and adult.
- Arthur Kirkland
July 15, 1964
Though it pains me to open this journal, I am told that I must write in it every day. I never was very good at writing entries on a fixed schedule.
- Arthur Kirkland
July 16, 1964
I went to work. I came home. Matthew picked up Peter.
- Arthur Kirkland
Juy 18nd, 1964rd
I'm noott giiing to tery
- Atur Kerc
July 20, 1964
This will be my last journal entry. I have no more need for writing them. It clearly is not working. I will take care of myself my way seeing as my way is what has carried me so far in life. Goodbye, Reader. I hope you will come to enjoy this journal far more than me.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 15, 1966
After staring at this blank page for nearly an hour, I have come to the conclusion that I have no idea what to write. It's almost as if…I don't care what I write, but there is nothing to write. I know that when I tried to find the family journal I couldn't find it in the storage room where I had left it. For all I know, it could be lost forever. I hate to think about when I wrote in it while I was sloshed. Lotte loved that journal. She loved recording our family's milestones. I couldn't bring myself to burn it.
I bought a new journal - if one can call a spiral bound bunch of notebook pages a journal - as suggested to me by my therapist. I refuse to use a pen like all the entries in the other journal. I want to be able to erase anything painful I write down.
Over the past month, I have experienced hallucinations and remorse. 'Remorse' isn't the proper word I should use, but I don't know any word deeper off the top of my head. Remorse. Regret. Pain. Lack thereof. A deafening realization. This will have to do. I can't write anymore.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 16, 1966
I'm thankful that no one is around to see me write. I have a feeling that I would constantly be pestered about my mental health. Ever since July of 1964, I've come to have a negative feeling associated with the twins' birthday. I hate that Matthew has to be subjected to it as well as Peter. …Had to be subjected to it.
Since the twins live apart, Peter and I made a day trip to Matthew's on the third of July. We celebrated and I managed to stay away from any alcohol – a grand accomplishment. Everyone seemed to have a joyous time. I had a hard time going to sleep that night. I knew what tomorrow would bring. I know that it's wonderful for Alfred to grow older. I know that I shouldn't think badly of it, but whenever I see him, all I can see is the face of the teenager that stormed out of the house two years ago. We end up fighting.
On the fourth, Peter and I went to Alfred's. I did my best to bite my tongue and behave. It was awkward to say the least. Peter didn't seem to notice. He smiled and laughed as he played board games with Alfred and a friend or two of his. When Peter left to use the toilet, Alfred and I were left alone. If I regret anything, it would be the moment in which I let my tongue slip. We argued back and forth, shouting in hissed whispers. Oh, God, the things we said to each other. By the time Peter came back, we were red in the face from growling at each other like rabid dogs. I impatiently waited for Peter to give his older brother a big hug before I took a hold of his hand and pulled him out of the house.
I had used the drive to cool down a bit. Peter's light hearted conversation and excitement helped my mood ever so slightly. I quickly tucked Peter in bed and dragged myself back to my own room. In hindsight, it was absolutely ludicrous of me to think that keeping alcohol in my bedroom while I was trying to quit would be a good idea. After I finished off a bottle, I completely forgot why I had sworn off the booze. Every mood was better with a buzz or so I thought. Before I knew it I was throwing pillows and bottles – some full, some empty. It was then that I heard a small voice. I think…
"Daddy?" Yes, that was it. It's the word that's been constantly plaguing me over the past month. I can't get it out of my head. It won't go away. Over and over, I'm called by him. I'm called by my youngest son. I know it. I thought it was someone else at the time. I thought it was Alfred. I threw bottles. I later found out that I had missed him, but that didn't matter.
I remember when Peter was almost a year old he had fallen down a few stairs. I remember being terrified and worried out of my mind for his safety. Back then he was only bruised. To think that he would fall down the stairs again…it's a fear I never thought I would have to revisit. That July night I had frightened him and he ran to the stairs. I made it out of my room in time to hear the sobering cacophony of sporadic thudding. The next thing I knew I was at Peter's side. I recall his labored whimpering and his red life pooling about his head. Even now I can hardly believe that it really happened. The only thing that confirms the accident was real and not a dream is Peter's grave.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 17, 1966
I visited his grave today and I brought Mister Buns with me. I figured that Peter wouldn't possibly be able to move on without Mister Buns. It took every ounce of my strength to set the rabbit down against the gravestone and read the engraving. I looked to the grave beside Peter's and smiled when I saw the bouquet of roses placed by a good friend of my wife's. I knelt down. I must have read and reread the engravings on the tombstones at least eight times each before I let my eyes cloud over with tears.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 20, 1966
I don't quite understand it. Earlier this morning I was so very close to breaking down again. Matthew had to force me to my appointment. During my appointment, I allowed my therapist to read my entries. He told me that I should have written every day, but he understood if I couldn't bring myself to do so. As I went about my day as best I could, I noticed a small flicker of light out of the corner of my eye a number of times. Some part of me deflated as something like an anvil lifted off of my chest. I couldn't understand it, but I could breathe again. Much to my amazement, I can breathe.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 21, 1966
Today I cleaned the house from top to bottom. I poured all of my alcohol down the sink and disposed of the empty bottles. I think the therapy might be working. I know it's supposed to take a lot of time, but I think I'm finally starting to show some improvement.
- Arthur Kirkland
August 22, 1966
I went to the park and for once trying to picture Peter and Lotte spending time with one another doesn't seem as painful as it was before. I'm going to find that family journal again and I'm going to write in it. No matter what I'm going to write another entry in the family journal.
- Arthur Kirkland