The Merry Month of May

If you were here, standing before me…….. I am no longer sure what I would say to you. These days, of celebration no longer feel worth a party to me, yet I try to continue the way you would have. I try more and more these days to remember the special event for my friends, and what family I have left. I sport a smile, never a gift because I never have money for it anymore. I pretend I’m not thinking of you with celebration and yet still all these years later it still sneaks up on me slowly……. Painfully.

May 1- brings such beauty as every spring, it just feels so much more ALIVE outside on the first of may.

May 2- The dream happens again and again and all I can do is take sleeping pills hoping that with those and meditation the dream wont come but it does.

May 3- I remember seven years ago watching you work on the finishing touches of the farm house, the new siding was glowing white, and it looked beautiful, only a few more panels to be put on. My heart starts to ache as if a mix of anxiety and pain try to attack the now frozen muscle hidden in my chest. We took family pictures that day. The first grandchild you had from your only daughter was growing inside of me and none of us knew. You looked terrible, you were so sick.

May 4- I was working, Adam was with you and papa. You guys had worked all day to finish the house. I was excited to see it! Adam and I lived in Monett and the storms were all over the radio but the sky was clear as we stood out in the driveway grilling steaks watching the darkness move over the north joking about how beautiful it was at our house when the sirens went off. We jumped in the car and took off towards Pierce City when my cell phone rang. It was you, telling us not to come over as planned because the house was shredded and the farm gone. It was the last cell phone conversation anyone in that area would have for a while, I’m still not sure how you got through to me. Against your wishes we tried to get to you….finally parking at the catholic cemetery. I remember the red old navy flip flops I had on slapping against my feet as I ran as fast as I could jumping over fallen trees and live powerlines. Tears running down my face not knowing what I would find when I got to you. When I first saw our town, my home town, the place I urged so much to be away from gone my heart broke and I ran faster. The distruction was horrific. It was probably only a two mile run from our car to your house but when I reached the driveway I couldn’t tell which end was up. The horses were bleeding, the dogs had debris in their hair. You were walking circles while papa made make shift pens for the horses. I stepped on a nail as I ran towards you with my arms reached out, you yelled at me in anger, and fear then we hugged. Looking around at the land that just hours before was pristine and clean, clear and beautiful the house almost new looking now broken down, shattered and filled with glass and insulation. It was the small closet/bathroom that saved you and papa. We were all in shock. That night each of us carried an animal- having to leave the horses of course, as we took our walk into town to check on the other house. I remember thinking to myself ‘this must be what an LA riot looked like back in the 70’s) with the helicopters, spot lights, powerlines snapping in the streets and emergency vehichles everywhere. I don’t remember any sounds, only helicopters echoing through my head. As we walked past the armory we all stood in horror as the building that once was the ‘safe house’ for storms had collapsed on many from our town, and rescue workers were digging to get people out. The building that once stood as a tall fortrice type building now nothing but a pile of bricks and frantic faces.

We arrived at the house on Locust and to our amazement it was unscathed except for one broken window. HOW? When just two blocks down was the worst of the devastation, how did it miss this house? We went in and that is where we stayed, you, me, papa, Adam and the animals……. In the light of a carosine lamp trying to figure out where to go next, trying to joke about the follow day and it’s meaning. Wondering to myself, how I would play the Beatles song with no electric

May 5- Happy Birthday Mom! You turned 47. The day after that tornado literally torn so many lives apart, it was the unhappiest birthday you’d ever had. It was the beginning of the end of the celebration of birthdays all around. May 5 2003- marks the last day I ever cared about a birthday.

A week later we told you we were pregnant, Adam and I. I wasn’t supposed to have children, it felt surreal, it was a great feeling. You were so happy you bragged to your friends.

Happy Grandparents

May 24th- I had a miscarriage. You blamed it on the tornado. I was between six and seven weeks along. It was five am. I had been up off and on all night with cramps, knowing what was coming b/c of my hcg levels. Adam held me all night, he was still asleep when it happened. I did what the doctor said, I picked my child up and sat in the bathroom on the floor in tears and blood. You were the first person I called. What light the pregnancy had brought back to you after your sickness, and the distruction of that tornado went away that day. We cried so hard together, it was your first grand baby, one you would have met before your death that was staring us all in the face anyways. Your frail face held tears until they were streaming so quickly it was as if a dam had busted. That was the day you lost hope.

Jaida at age two - Your angel in the background

However, years have come and passed. As you know Jaida May Worm was born almost exactly a year from the date we lost the first baby. I know it was your gift to me for leaving me just weeks before my own birthday. I know you, and adams dad and God sat and had a meeting, making a decision that would forever reflect both of you when we look into her eyes. She has your spirit, and your heart. She has his bravery and strength. The rest she got from Adam and I but we know every day where she really came from and so even though her birthday is really and truly the only one I celebrate with true happy tears in my eyes, a real smile on my face and hope in my heart. Tomorrow is your birthday Mom, you would be 54 tomorrow. I could crack jokes at your age and pluck grey hairs. I could cook your favorite German Chocolate cake and sing you happy birthday. Jaida would have a card for you, hand written and colored with such care. And so, we will. That is the plan. I’ll see you tomorrow mom. Jaida has flowers she wants to plant on your island, next to your angel that protect your ashes. I will make the cake and papa will oversee the operation. We will have a glasss of wine, or maybe a whole bottle, and I’ll be sure to leave some for you. Jaida asked me the other day if she can leave a piece of cake on your bench so if you got hungry that night you could come eat it (like santa claus). So when you see the single slice of cake at sundown, it’s for you. I’ll be sure to only put one candle on it, so we don’t burn the house down with the what would have been 54 of them. I miss you. I love you. Happy birthday.

Memoirs- Jeanette Eisele - Part 2.

As I glanced back at her lifless body, one last time I saw my dad crying as he leaned to her cheek. I pushed through the wooden swinging doors and burst into the most painful deep sobbing i'd ever experianced. Even the large farmers arms of the cornor were somewhat helpful as he tried to console me. At least he kept me from falling, as any strength i had as of now was gone, along with her soul.

I walked slowly out of the odd smelling funeral home, and down the concrete path to the little blue VW Beetle we had bought my mom after the tornado destroyed her Sentra (it was so old and oxidized, we never understood her emotional connection to it) and at the time, I had a yellow VW Beetle and she always liked mine, so we got her one. It was now my dads to drive... a six foot 6 tall bald man... it WAS pretty funny.... at least it was somethign to smile about. I sat in the car, with the door open, staring into the sun waiting for something to happen to wake me up from this horrible dream and she'd be standing there laughing like some sick April Fools Day joke "ha ha gotcha"... but it didn't. I heard the door slam and it was my dad. His head was down, eyes gazed into the steps he was taking and the cracks on the concrete before his giant feet. He opened the car door and sat down slowly.

"We need to go and talk to Sharon" he said, without any emotion at all. So off to the house we headed. The drive up the way was longer than it had ever been. The gravel crunched under the tires and the once beautiful house, now torn apart from the tornado that hit only months prior was there, unfolding as if in some horror movie.

She was standing next to her squad car, arms crossed, puffy eyes yet no tears. Sharon was always a good friend of our family, she was a lesbian so of course people around town had to treat her like crap because that's what back woods idiots do to people who are a little different or things they dont understand. I began to walk into the house, I had to get 'bobby'- my mom's favorite bird. Sharon stopped me quickly telling me... i didn't want to see it. I assured her, I did. She walked with me to the living room, where my mom had laid the padding from a lawn chair over a sofa to keep any blood from ruining the sofa (because you had to know her, god forbid she leave a mess for us... ina house that was already torn up by a tornado)

"No Blood?" I asked with the most amazed look on my face. "no, not one drop my dear' Sharon replied with her solid arm around me. I asked her to explain to me how she was laying and she did. On the west end was her head, at her feet a picture of Jesus Christ, which explained why she was smiling when i saw her for the last time. On the floor were two bowls of water. One with dish soap, one with clean water. Again with the mess thing. After we took Bobby out of the house I asked to be alone in the room. Adam was there, and that was fine. I sat down quietly on the sofa I wanted to feel what she felt see what she saw- I knew she kept her 'stash' of green material somewhere close and the last thing i wanted was the sheriff to find it upon their secondary search- she didn't need to be rumored a pot smoker on top of a suicidal. I looked around, asked aloud 'if i were here, where would i have hidden it'.... i reached up under the botton of a side table, pushed the drawer backwards and it landed in my hand. I began to cry.

Adam was standing to my right, beside the couch and reached for my shoulder in condolence. About that time i heard something solid hit the ground and roll. The look on his face was of shock, and he was somewhat pale in the face. "what was that" i asked. "Uh" he stammered "i'm not sure you need to know Bambi" In my head, i kept asking - WHY does everyoen assume i dont need to know, ASSUME i shouldn't see, ASSUME i shouldn't be told- I stood up quickly to discover why he didn't want me to see it.

There on the floor, about two feet from my foot was the slug that the cops were unable to find during the original walk through of the scene. It was a small one, i picked it up and with horror on my face realized the white piece of substance on the end of it wasn't part of the bullet, but part of my mom's bone. I quickly placed it in a plastic bag, and put it in my pocket. Not long after that, I realized i hadn't even asked for a note. I stepped outside to ask Sharon and she had told me the Sheriff had taken it, along with the weapon for further examination and it would be weeks before they would get it back to us.

Here i stand, silently hiding the bullet they thought was in the sofa because it was a through and through shot to her chest, yet no sign of it entering the fabric of the place she was laying. Apparently in the 'law' world, this was odd. It was also said the weapon was set to automatic rounds- but jammed on one shot.

To be Continued...............

Memoirs- Jeanette Eisele Part 1.

It was July 16th of 2003. It had been a full year at least of non stop phone calls to her, daily… typically more than once sometimes more than five depending on the change between them. It was normal to call her in the morning, see how she felt and get my ass chewed out from something I’d done when I was five, like biting the blinds leaving teeth prints while I watched my parents out in the yard, of course she was back in that moment, so you can imagine how hard it was for me to not laugh at her being that I was at the time 22 and she was STILL yelling at me for doing that, then saying ‘I didn’t’ do it’ (I was an only child people… lets say I wasn’t bright enough to blame the dog) I remember waking up this day, calling her. The first of the calls were pleasant, she talked of the humming birds fighting over feeders or mates or whatever would cause then to fly at one another shit and fly the other direction. We would giggle about this almost daily. The first conversation was good, I thought this would be a wonderful day for us. An hour later I got another call from her angry with me, because she’d not heard from me yet today, ranting about insurance claims and the tornado then switching to something totally off the wall. My stomach would sink and I could hear it in her voice that there wasn’t much time left, but I didn’t care to face it. I was 22. Nothing can hurt you at 22. The calls went on all day- good then bad, then finally the last one it hit her you could tell, she realized after I angrily said to her ‘mom, for gods sake I’m working and I’ll come see you after work, we’ve had this same FUCKING conversation all damn day’…. she hung up on me. I sat, staring at the clock in my office. It was after 4 and I got off work by five. I immediately felt horrible and tried to call back but no answer.

She had gotten an MRI a few months prior to her losing her memory sparatically, they saw dark spots on the base of her skull – meaning the cancer had spread. The slightest hint of chemo therapy or radiation or even the acknowledgement that she was dying or losing her mind was out of the question for her. So we went along with it, papa and i. we just pretended right along side her that nothing was wrong.

When I got off work, I went to my house that I had been living in with Jaida’s dad (this was before Jaida of course, we lived in sin… ya ya) I was preparing dinner, of course to take some to my parents when I heard a knock at the door. It was her, holding wind chimes in each hand. I welcomed her in, gave her a hug. She was in a surprisingly chipper mood. She had been at Modern Variety and found these chimes. She wanted me to pick the one I most liked. It was hard, one were rainbow colored sunshines with huge smiles and the other soft pink butterflies. I wanted them both, but I took the sunshines, knowing that she secretly wanted the butterflies, since I always reminded her of one. We sat and chatted for a while, she showed me some sillies she had gotten and shared some white chocolate with me (the real kind, the kind they chip away and put in a paper bag for you… the kind that makes you sick when you eat more than a few pieces). Like always though, the conversation slipped… somewhere in the midst we began arguing about something and I told her in the meanest voice I could muster “I have had enough! FUCK MOM- you go off like this ten seconds later you’re back to fucking normal!!! Seriously how do you NOT see what you are doing?” She stopped, her face turned blank and she headed towards the door. She smiled at me as she began walking out, still holding the butterfly wind chimes and said ‘you wont have to worry that much longer bambi, I love you’ to which I replied ‘I love you too mom’ and the door shut quietly.

I watched her get in the van, sit for a moment realizing what was realling going on, it had to be hard to realize you were losing your mind and had no clue. I stood in the picture like any snotty 22 year old ass hole would do and just watched her without telling her I was sorry. My god, she was tiny, she weighed 80 pounds last I knew, she was a walking skeleton.

The night drew to a close like any other, Adam and I watching tv. Ignoring all possible reality in the outside world, eating whatever it was I had cooked, snuggling with Paxton and just hanging out.

July 17, 2003

I woke up the next morning with the same chip on my shoulder. I remember thinking to myself how horrible I was, but at the same time how I wasn’t going to let her ruin my day today. I wasn’t going to call! I headed off to work – regular office chatter- blah blah blah and it was lunch time. I went home to have lunch with Adam and our Friend Chase. At the time the two were mowing yards together so it was a nice break for me to smell stinky working men while eating a lunch meat sandwhich. I remember heading back to work around 1:00 and that is when the day grew cold.

I still hadn’t called, I kept thinking of what I had told a co worker just weeks before this whole thing ‘I wished god would heal her or take her away because I cannot handle this much longer’- sinking in my head and my stomach I felt the guilt and realized it was nearly 2 and I’d not even gotten a call from her yet. About that time my phone rings.

“Bambi, this is XXX from security, we need you to come over to the security building right away please”. Immediately I thought I was getting fired, again with the selfishness of a 22 year old until I rounded the corner to the building and saw the Pierce City Police car. I heard every step I took, every breath in and out, I could feel the sun beating down on me almost in a straight burn. It was bright, in my eyes and I could feel my heart racing I had a hunch, intuition you might call it, but it was confirmed when I peered through the window to see my dads hat he wore every day- I knew it was him b/c he always wore his infantry pin on it from the army.

I opened the door to see two of our company security officers that I’d gotten to know very well by speeding past them in the parking lot while they shake their fingers at me and I’d honk every time as if to say nah nah nah – against the far wall was the cross eyed cop from Pierce City who was once our janitor turned police chief over night (yeah, I’m serious here, go a head and laugh… we all do!) and then he stood up……….. my dad…. His tall thin stature normally so strong and protective was green in the face – red in the eyes and shaking like he’d seen a ghost.

“She did it Bambi” he said to me with an obvious pain and lump in his throat. “NO…. where is she, is she ok… no she didn’t!!!!” he repeated that yes in fact she had- and I hit the cold tile of the floor knees first. He picked me up, I hit him in the chest as if it were somehow going to make me feel better or wake me up from the horrible nightmare I was in and behind him, as he held me so tight to his chest I saw the PC officer look to the ground when the words “Where is she now, can we go see her” came from my mouth. The room cleared quickly. The security guards that once jokes with me turned and walked away, the officer stood steady with no expression and no eye contact.

“Shes gone sweety, she’s at Lakin Funeral Home”

The last words I remember then were saying NO and crying, feeling sick and running out the front door of the building that seems to be closing in on me and throwing up violently next to the tire of my dads car. I sat down in the summer heat suddenly emotionless, no tears, they had stopped…….my ribs hurt from the emotional thrust of sickness that had just came from inside my soul.

It wasn’t long before papa joined me and sat on the curb. Everyone cleared out it seemed and it was just us. I knew what I had to do. But I wasn’t ready. Two weeks ago she reminded me very clearly “When it’s my time, I don’t want a big funeral so all the fake people can come stare at my lifeless shell and pretend they cared, I want you to cremate me, don’t you dare let them cut me open I want to see God in one piece unscathed from a coroners hand, and I want you to scatter me to the four corners” This obviously was a conversation we all knew was coming, she had to smoke pot to eat- even a few bites then sometimes it would hurt so bad she threw it back up anyways.

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go get my things, that I had a job to do as I was in charge of everything in her passing. Nobody but Me was to make any final decisions in her well being for the afterlife. I stumbled across the black pavement into the building where I worked. My boss was gone, I was weak and I will never forget the first person I told. Her name was Brandy Beshears- I saw her in the kitchen and she asked me what was wrong. Make up down my face, I asked where Kurt (my boss) was. In the next second would be the first time, to what was at that time almost a total stranger that “I have to leave, my mom killed herself”.

I excused myself from the already growing curious crowd of people who had apparently seen me fall outside the building and get sick, so you can imagine how quickly news spread the moment the large oak doors closed behind me. All I could hear in my head was what I had said only a few days or weeks before “I wish god would just heal her or take her…. “ over and over again. The next stop was to tell Adam. I knew where they were working, and papa drove me silently to the doctors yard. I stepped out of the car and as if he felt the pain rush over him as well he heard my tears over the hum of the lawn mower. He shut it off, jaw dropped in awe and I again lost all strength in my knees. I don’t remember what I told him- I just remember opening my eyes and I was at the funeral home.

The smell is horrible in any funeral home, it’s deathly quiet and the carpet is always some horrible pink color with the most hideous flower wall paper to hide the once panneld walls. Mr. Lakin asked me to sit at one end of the table, I chose the other in defiance. Papa at my side, holding my hand Mr. Lakin began. All of the paper work had to be filled out by me. Autopsy? NO – I mean after all my moms’ friend Sharon Black- also a PC cop was at the back door of the house when she did it… what was the point, we all knew the truth behind the suicide…. At least the ones she allowed to know. I looked past his huge shoulders into the crack between the swinging doors and I could see her. His words became a dull sound that I could no longer make out as I focused on the space between the doors. I could see her beautiful long blonde hair and the tip of her nose…. I could see the red spot on her forehead that she had gotten in a motorcycle accident from when she was 16. After I filled out all the information, signed for no funeral, wrote a check for the amount of the cremation and made plans to come back to pick her up I was handed an envelope. Her blongings, what she was wearing when she was picked up. Amnithest necklace, tarnished from wear – a tiny emerald earing she wore on just one side in the only second hole she was brave enough to pierce and a tube of her favorite chapstick… Chap-Et- the blue kind that smells like medicine.

After a bear hug and a slight tear, Mr. Lakin went to escort us out. “no, I want to say goodbye to her sir” to which he replied very stern “Honey, I don’t think you want this to be the last memory you have of your mom”…. But it was……….. because I’d buried so many friends already through high school, car wrecks, suicides, illnesses that I was not leaving until I said goodbye to my mother, my best friend.

I didn’t wait for his answer, I simply pushed past him into the morgue, and there she was. Lifeless in a black body bag unzipped down just above her chest. Her golden hair even more light against the dark plastic bag and her snow white skin so milky and for once healthy looking. The blood hadn’t been flowing through her veins for hours but she was still beautiful. Her eyes were open, eyes like no other. Blue as the most beautiful sky with a glorious and powerful soul to match hiding just behind them. she had a smile on her face- a faint smile, it made me smile. She was no longer in pain………..she didn’t even bleed- not one drop. Sharon and I think she was dead before the bullet entered her chest. I brushed my fingers through her hair one last time, closed each eye with my own finger to be sure she couldn’t see the pain in my face just incase part of her was still there, lingering to make sure I did my job right. I leaned forward, a tear from my face falling to hers and kissed her lifeless cheek. It wasn’t totally hard yet, just cool to the touch… lifeless and solid.

To be continued…………