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…………