NOTE: I am reposting Louis’s diaries from another website where I do not intend renewing my membership. These will be under the category of “Louis’s Journal”.
April 1, 2009
Last night, my lady’s mother asked about the first time I contacted my lady. That was in 1993, during their second visit to France. Their first visit was in 1989, and their conversation turned to the first time my lady saw my portrait, in my palace of the Louvre. Louise said she had never thought to ask me what that time was like for me. She has asked me about the journey, and whether I was near her, but not that moment of it.
She used our pendant to ask me now if it was sad for me to be so close when she could not hear me, or if I felt that going to my country of birth was an unnecessary diversion. The very questions were part of the answers, because she shaped her questions in tune with what I tried to tell her. Our communication is not yet easy, but we move, somehow, all the time. My lady swiftly changed from asking about sadness to asking about frustration. She knows I was not sad, not since she loved me. I had no more fears that we would not one day be together, for her heart was mine as surely as mine was hers, and ever will be.
I had thought this might be the way to break the barrier between us. Could it be that seeing my portrait would be enough to convince her that I was near, that I lived and I loved her? Would it let her, if not hear me, then at least end her fears? I hoped, but I did not know. She looked at my painted image, she gazed and gazed with tears in her eyes, and all the while I said, “Look through it, my love! Look through it and see me, I am here!”
But disappointment waited for me then. This was not the time, the trigger. It was a flash in the pan, the bullet did not fire. I am glad I did not know how many more years it would take for us to truly speak. I do not see earthly futures. They are not set. It is like standing on a hill and seeing paths leading into fine luminous mist. One has an idea of what lies along each path, but it is not clear, and one does not know what path will be taken. All I knew was that our paths would converge, if not in my lady’s earthly life, then when she crossed to the life eternal. We loved, and I would greet her when she arrived, if we did not speak before. But I did not want to wait so long!
I thought our time had come in 1993. My lady and her mother had returned to France. One day she lay in her room, and her mind was quiet, and suddenly I felt the barrier weaken. It had happened before, just for moments, over the years, and I was able to send images to her. But they were instants, too swift to hold, and though she called them clear visions she never realised that she had named her own clairvoyance. But now I had the chance to do more, and sent the best picture I could think of to show her my promise. I showed her what we both want, though it was in the earthly world, not our long home. I sent a picture of us sitting in the lounge-room of the house she then lived in, just us. She sat and sewed and I did leatherwork. I had no time to polish this picture. I sent the first things I could think of.
I could not have guessed how strongly Louise received it. She saw it, she felt what I tried to tell her, and leapt from her bed to tell her mother. I was elated. Now, surely now we would be able to speak, to come together! But the dead weight of false belief still came between us in the years ahead. It felt like the ground I had gained was lost. Her faith in the truth of that vision faded. It was not truly lost, but could not stand alone against the pressures not to believe.
Thank God it did not crumble. Thank God the strand of hope was strong enough. My lady’s life took strange paths for some years, paths she needed to grow, but they led her to write a book. So unhappy did my own earthly life make her that she wished to create for me a new, not knowing if I yet lived. And the wish to show one’s work (I remember the pleasure of praise) led her to a place where she met those who felt the truth. They told her, her love was half of a whole. They did not know me, I had never spoken to them, but they knew truth. And now we wait no more to speak, we are together, we are wed. I am the happiest man in the worlds, because my lady, whom I love, loves me.
