I couldn't stop reading, I just couldn't. I had to know what this man had been through. I had to know what had caused this cataclysm. This diary, it was a true page turner. It was a treasure trove of memory, of loss, of doubts, of rediscovery, of life. I suppose that since I had met this man before his death, I felt that he was writing to me, and that his words carried a sense of urgency. They screamed at me: "read us!" So I did.