December 31, 2005

It was an ordinary day. When I think about that day, that’s the first thing I think – “It was an ordinary day.” The girls were going to spend New Years Eve afternoon with their dad and his family celebrating their Christmas. Before they left, I told them I was going to Walmart – did they need anything? Anna said yes, she needed black tights to wear to work that night hostessing at Rockola. No problem. Jessica and Anna took Elisha and left to go to their dad’s – I ran errands, getting Anna’s tights. I had no inclination at all – none in any far corner of my mind – that I would wear those tights to Anna’s memorial service three days later.

For December 31st, it was a sunny day – not terribly cold. I remember laying on the sofa to watch TV – a quiet afternoon with no special plans for the night.

While I was lounging on the sofa at my house, the girls opened presents at their dad’s – their grandparents stayed for a short visit. Later, Jessica, Anna, Elisha and Mike (my ex-husband) went outside so Elisha could play on the tractor. It’s always fun to crank up a big farm machine and feel the noise and vibration. At two-years-old, Elisha, discovering new things at every turn, was our source of vicarious innocence and delight. With the tractor running, Anna left the group to in to the bathroom. And hidden beneath the sound of the tractor were the two gunshots she fired. The first was apparently a test. For the second, Anna aimed at her temple and shot herself. No one heard the shots.

After a few minutes, Jessica thought she’d go inside and check on Anna. I can imagine her wondering if Anna had run out of toilet paper – needed a tampon – normal stuff. And she discovered her sister’s body.

My phone rang and I heard a hysterical Jessica screaming at me. Something had happened. Without being able to understand her words, I knew she was telling me that Elisha had fallen – as 2-year-olds often do. I tried to reassure her that he would be okay – I would meet her at the emergency room. How bad was he hurt? Did he bump his head? Was he bleeding? He would be fine – I remember the last moments I had on this planet feeling secure in thinking everything would be okay – I just wanted to calm down my child.

Then I heard her scream at me, “No Momma! Anna’s Dead!” I was standing on my carport looking at the clear blue sky through the empty branches of my oak trees. I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. I couldn’t understand her. What? Again. “Momma! Anna’s dead!” she screamed at me. At that precise moment, the world stopped turning. I died at that moment too.

And my “NO!” swallowed me whole. I ran inside, got my shoes, pocketbook and keys and ran back out to my car. Totally out of my mind, I got the car pointed in the right direction and drove on auto-pilot. Screaming “NO!” over and over and over, crying. Somehow I found out she had shot herself – either from Mike’s wife who told me to just stay home. “HA! As if I’d do that – I had to get to my baby and FIX this situation – You people have made some kind of serious mistake and fuck you if you think I’m just sitting here! Who the fuck do you think I am? Who the fuck do you think YOU are?” I remember screaming. Mostly NO. And it’s the NO like they do in movies when mothers get news like this. It is accurately portrayed. The life goes out of your body – your spirit evaporates, you become a deflated, empty vessel that’s only able to feel pain … But I had a tiny shread of hope. Before I actually arrived there (a 20-30 minute drive in good circumstances), I had hope – maybe there’d been a mistake – maybe they just thought she was hurt – maybe she was okay now – maybe by the time I got there, everyone would be standing around hugging and laughing over that terrible scare. Maybe.

I flashed my lights at a state trooper I met on the road. It turned out to be a woman trooper who was sympathetic to whatever story I was able to communicate to her, but she said she couldn’t transport me in her car, and she couldn’t give me an escort. Fine, I said – But I’m not stopping for anything until I get there. And I was trying to get people on my cell phone – the man I was dating. Silly me, I thought it would be good to have him with me – but he was too drunk to find where Anna was, couldn’t get there… Men, fucking useless. I drove - I remember I was driving into the sunset. I think it was around 3 or 4 o’clock in the afternoon – you’d think I’d know that, as time-oriented as I am, but I don’t. Like so many things about that day, it really doesn’t matter.

I stopped my car in my ex-husband’s front yard – there were sheriff’s cars in the driveway. That’s when I knew. When I knew there wasn’t a mistake. I flung myself into the house, beyond hysterical, beyond reason, nothing but fear – I screamed at the police, I screamed at my ex and his wife – I screamed “I want to see my baby! I have to see my Anna!” They tried to calm me down. They tried to be soothing. They held me back – four of them grabbed me and told me No, they wouldn’t let me see her – that I didn’t want to see her like that. “FINE then,” I screamed, “cover her up, but I’ve got to hold her! NOW GODDAMMIT! She came out of me, she is my baby – you let go of me!” I don’t know how long we struggled. I was kicking and screaming and I punched one of the deputies in the face and I kicked my ex in the balls (and a small little voice in my head rejoiced over that) – and I still fought them - I had to see my Anna. Somehow, Jessica appeared and got right up in my face. She calmly told me, No. I wasn’t going to get to see Anna – I didn’t want to see her like that. “Calm down, Momma – go outside,” she said to me.

Please just let me hold her, then. Please please please… The fight was gone from me, the wicked witch of the west was melting – please please please, let me hold my Anna please please please

No. And they didn’t let me hold her or see her. The motherfucking bastards. I didn’t have to see her – but why couldn’t I hold her? Were they afraid it would upset me? Hello? I will never forgive that deputy for keeping me from Anna – because I think it was her final say-so. I will never forgive her. Ever. She was cruel and heartless and inhuman. How dare she deny me my child. It was not her right.

I went outside. And that’s when the world started turning again. Ramona and Cindy and Becky and Ashley came. Ashley went to be with Jessica and Elisha. Ramona started making phone calls. I sat on the brick steps and smoked cigarette after soggy cigarette – my tears pouring out – my eyes feeling swollen. I was in and out of awareness for a while. I remember trying to think of who Ramona should call – my parents who had just driven back down to Florida would have to turn around and come back – Anna’s BFF Katie in Arizona – my sister. I still had a sister – Jessica didn’t, my brain told me. I felt like I was exploding. I knew I was out of control. But it couldn’t be fixed.

I shouted at the funeral home people that it was Mike’s fault because he just had to have a fucking handgun in HIS house. I was still screaming and shouting – trying to drown out the words inside my head that my Anna was gone. I heard Ramona using the word “dead” – and it was like a physical slap across my face – NO! Don’t say it! Don’t say it and it won’t be real! Three years later and I still can’t say the word. Anna is gone. We lost Anna.

They moved the hearse to the house’s front door – I think to avoid a scene with me. I knew what the bastards were up to. I went to the front and told the deputy standing there that if he thought he was going to keep me away from my daughter, he should go ahead and handcuff me now. He just stepped back. I heard the gurney or whatever it’s called coming to the door. Some part of me knew that my daughter, my beautiful seventeen-year-old daughter’s perfect body was zipped up inside a plastic bag rolling out the door, heading for the back of the hearse. Somewhere in me, I knew I would never ever ever be with my Anna again. I reached out to the middle of her body in the bag. Was that my Anna? They kept moving, placing her body in the hearse. I didn’t want to let go. But I did. The fight in me was languishing. The rage would be back in full force. The emptiness. The pain that dropped me to my knees.

Cindy, Ramona and Becky drove me home. Ashley stayed to take care of Jessica. Over the next few days, we all existed in a haze of pain and awareness and duty and responsibility and anguish and loss and anger and sadness and emptiness. I have snippets of memories from those days. Ramona was at my house being in charge. Ashley asking me if I wanted something to eat. My parents arriving, after their drive from Florida – my Mom’s refusal to accept suicide, instead choosing accident – whatever lets you sleep at night. My second husband showing up with pharmaceuticals that did let me sleep a black empty dreamless sleep. Sherry and Beth – me thinking how Anna always felt close to Sherry, being the “younger daughter” – how Anna leaned on Sherry when Daniel died. People from work coming to the house. Katie and Virginia and Tommy. The ride to the funeral home when my mom told me and Ramona to “behave” – as if we were going to somehow act up? I felt so at ease with Lesa – because unlike anyone else, she DID know how I felt. I was learning how to “pull myself together” in a very literal way – after dissolving into tears or anger or sadness, I raise my head, straighten my back and shoulders, take that last sniff, and pretend I’m okay. Fake it til you make it, right?

I do remember the kindness my ex-husband showed when he let me call all the shots for Anna’s service and cremation. And he stood up for me at the funeral home when I insisted that they let me touch her body. I remember being surprised that he would do that for me. So at the funeral home, they brought her body (still in its bag) to one of the rooms there. The man unzipped the bag partway and took her right hand out of the bag and laid it beside her. For me. For me to hold – to touch, to see that yes, it was my Anna’s hand. Her beautiful, graceful, long-fingered hand. So cold. I did not have the strength to stand, I remember dropping to my knees, holding her precious hand – and talking to her. Telling her how sorry I was for all my mistakes, how much I have loved her from the moment I knew I was pregnant with her – she had my love. And after a while, I was able to let go of her hand. … I didn’t cause a scene; I behaved.

I wore her tights to her memorial service where we celebrated what a beautiful, special wonderful light had gone out of our lives. That is a hazy memory at best. I remember Katie. Noura. The boy who sat next to Anna in science class who said Anna made him feel special.

And I’ve put the minutes into hours into days into weeks and months and now three years. The new Jennifer who was born the day we lost Anna is different. I am much tougher. I don’t trust anyone or anything – because if my child can be taken from me, anything can. I have lost any relationship at all with what was known as god. I have been betrayed and stolen from and lied to - no big deal. I realize I have no one to depend on but myself. I am alive today because Jessica cannot lose her mother to suicide. I went through a period of thinking that maybe Anna’s spirit had led me to “the right man” to be my partner for the rest of my life – what a load of horseshit that turned out to be.

I’ve been asked over and over, “Why?” We don’t know. There was no note. She wasn’t pregnant or on drugs or failing out of school. So I shrug and say that it doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t. What reason could be good enough? What reason could be right? What reason could make me say, “Oh well then, okay.” She’s gone and reasons won’t help anything. Nothing will make it better. My Anna is gone.

santa for some...

I love Jessica & Elisha. They are the absolute best on this planet. Adorable and funny and sweet - and they love me. So apparently they're super intelligent too! I don't know what I'd do without them. I really don't.

This is the present Elisha made at school for his mommy. It's a neat floor mat made with his very own footprints. He was so excited to give this to Jes - and she loves it!

And he got some "Hulk Hands" - they're like boxing gloves and they say stuff like, "Don't make me angry - you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." (I think I need some of these?)
With everything opened, Elisha started playing - here he's drawing SpongeBob.

And I dearly love my sister too. She checks in on me to make sure I'm doing okay - it's nice to feel so cared for.

So I've survived - no - I've ENJOYED christmas!

Now for the depressing part - feel free to stop here.

I do so miss my Anna. When I woke up this morning, I wondered what if I could do one of those TV things where you wake up and realize the past several years were just a dream (a la Dallas or Newhart). What if it was three years ago christmas morning? What if I could tiptoe downstairs to get things ready - for my two girls and little Elisha to come down and see what Santa had brought? What would I do differently in the seven days to come? Would could I do differently? What MUST I do differently? I wouldn't want to go back three years and relive that raw, agonizing pain again - or the enduring numbness in between the sad feelings. But if I could change it - if I could do whatever it is I should have done - if only I had my lovely Anna here today. To hear her laugh - to listen to her stories - what stories would there be today? with three years of life to hear?

Done!

I finished my xmas shopping today! Yahoo!! Yipee!! I went to Target about 11:00 this morning and after much wandering around, I'm done. I hope Jessica and Elisha will be thoroughly happy. Although I'm sure I missed something obvious, I feel as if I've done the best I could - considering I hate to shop and I hate the holidays... I'm ready for springtime now.

Happy Fringemas!!!

Dinner and a Movie Date

I went with a charming, handsome, very funny young fellow to see the movie, Bolt, tonight. We laughed - we didn't cry. We watched previews and decided we want to see them ALL! There's a Pixar movie coming out next year called Up! and it looks to be about a grumpy old man who lifts his house into the air with balloons to get away from people. Sounds like a plan!! Then there's Tales of Despereaux which looks beautiful. And InkHeart with Brendan Fraser about a magical book that somehow lets you inside the story.
Doesn't get better than going to the movies with someone you love.

Lives of Others

My sister has been telling me for months that I needed to watch "Lives of Others" - an award winning German movie from a few years ago. I admit I'd been dreading it - what if the movie made me "FEEL" something? What if I got emotionally involved with the characters? Oh no! So tonight, I settled in and read subtitles for over two hours.

It was very good. Basic plot was "what effect does it have on the listener who listens in on the 'lives of others' in a police state?" It's easy to see who's the good guy vs the bad guys here - East German secret police trying to get some leverage on a prominent author because one of the head honchos has the hots for the author's leading actress girlfriend. It was even filmed to show the warm creams and yellows of the author's apartment - versus the cold, blue, solitary, proletarian room of the main listener, Weisel. (yeah, pronounced "weasel").

So now, I need to talk about the movie with somebody. And I emailed my sister, but it's not the same. The more I think about the movie... the more I can't stop thinking about it. Yes. It made me Feel. I became invested in what would happen to the characters - good guys and bad guys. The contrast between the life of the author and the life of the listener. How one person - even in a police state like East Germany was - can make a difference. How we all have to express ourselves and express our humanity. How connections make such a difference. How we each decide what we're willing to sacrifice. How hope is essential to our lives - without hope ... hmmm...

Good movie. Okay - excellent movie.

Ellen Wins

Okay, Ellen. You win. He chose you over me. You win the prize. Best of everything to the two of you.
Now butt out. This is my place and you're not welcome.

But you know what? This little "exchange" has been like that blow-up-argument I didn't have with him. It's like I woke up this morning knowing that I'm over him. My head knew I was over him the day we broke up - but my heart didn't know until now. You know how you feel that day you're first coming back to life after having a really disgusting stomach virus? That first day you're able to move around? That's how I feel today - like I'm getting over some nasty bug.

Who knew that's what it would take?!

Jesus H. Christ

Anonymous commenter says: "But you've missed the point: You're never whole and at peace when you crave another for comfort. Be whole and entire first, then give a complete you. You are all that matters first. And if anyone should walk away from you thereafter, your head won't need a shoulder for support."

I am SO fucking sick and tired of hearing "love yourself first, and you'll find love" ... "be whole yourself and you won't need anyone else" ... Jesus H Christ... this kind of crap makes me want to scream!
Perhaps YOU miss the point, Pollyanna. Human beings are social animals. I am perfectly happy with the woman I am. I am smart and funny and relatively sexy for 51 and I know oodles of stuff about oodles of topics and I'm well-read and I enjoy pro football and I like puzzles. I feel no need to change who or what I am to suit another individual. I feel I AM whole and entire. Dumb bitch/bastard lecturing ME about being complete. You sappy/happy horsehit spewing dimwit.

It is the HUMAN wanting to share my life with someone else I crave. Wanting someone else to understand me and still like me. Wanting someone else to give a shit if I exist. Wanting a consistent sex partner. Wanting a hug at the end of the day, a kiss before I go to sleep at night, moron. Wanting to listen to someone else's stories of how his day went. I am happy with who I am. I am seriously fucked up and flawed - but I think everyone is.

No more fucking moralizing to me, Anonymous. Unless you are perfectly happy with EVERY fucking aspect of your existence - in which case you're wildly famous for having all the happy-sappy solutions to humanity's problems. Did you get laid today?

12-12

In honor of Ramona's birthday, I'm taking the day off work. Okay - not really. But it is her birthday, and I am taking a day off. I have a whole list of things to do today - none of them any fun at all! I am not a shopper, but today's my day to gather presents with fingers crossed they'll bring happiness to the receivers.
Someone left a comment on the last entry that I shouldn't let thoughts of how the last relationship ended bother my "place of solace." Solace? That's what I found when I could lay my head on his shoulder and put my responsibilities and guilt and burdens down for a while - before I had to pick them back up and "stand up straight and tall, hold my head up" and go back to "real" life. I have no solace now. I have brief flashes of comfort perhaps - Jessica's infectious laugh, Elisha's hugs... but there is no solace. I am not a solitary person. I have learned how to enjoy some alone time - but I crave a partner.

"Solitude vivifies; isolation kills." -- Joseph Roux

mmm...

I still find myself thinking about the man I was dating. Thought we'd get married. Thought we were compatible (except for the lying and cheating). And I'm still thinking about him all the time. What time is it? What would he be doing? Is it his workday today? Is this the layoff week? Wonder how his Thanksgiving was? Has he already met somebody new? Or is he going to pick up again with the woman I caught him with (who was an ex-girlfriend)? How could he just let me go so easily? Is it because we didn't have any big blow-up argument that I can't get him out of my mind? Is it because now I know it will be even harder to trust the next person who says nice things to me? Who can say "I love you" one minute and go to another woman the next? Who can say "I love you" and then drop me like I meant nothing at all to him? Who can have such lapses in judgement that he'd ask another woman (not this one, but a different one!) to the birthday party I'd planned and cleaned for him?

What the hell is so wrong with me? I was honest. I was faithful. I was loyal. I went to doctor's appointments with him. I cooked for him (and I don't like cooking all that much). It just hurts so much that he apparently didn't give a damn at all - ever. I was fooled. I was stupid. That's what hurts the most - that I let myself be fooled. Where do I always go wrong?

What I did today.

I went out to check on Mom & Dad's ... then came back by the Bryant cemetery to see Anna's stone... Not what a mom is supposed to to before christmas. dammit.

I promise this will make you smile...

WHY YOU NEVER QUESTION A DRUNK...

I was shopping at the local supermarket where I selected:

A half-gallon of 2% milk

A carton of eggs
A quart of orange juice

A head of lettuce

A 2 lb. can of coffee

A 1 lb. package of bacon

As I was unloading my items on the conveyor belt to check out, a drunk standing behind me watched as I placed the items in front of the cashier. While the cashier was ringing up the purchases, the drunk calmly stated, ''You must be single.''

I was a bit startled by this proclamation, but I was intrigued by the derelict's intuition, since I was indeed single. I looked at the six items on the belt and saw nothing particularly unusual about my selections that could have tipped off the drunk to my marital status.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I said: ''Well, you know what,you're absolutely right. But how on earth did you know that?''

The drunk replied, ''Cause you're ugly.''

Sound like a 4-year-old... WHY?

I realize that when I'm screaming at the universe (or traffic idiots, etc), it's for the unchangeable things. WHY don't I have my Anna? WHY did such a horrible thing happen? WHY am I miserable? WHY doesn't he love me? How could he just stop? WHY does the planet continue to revolve with me stuck on an endless escalator of crap?

Hmmm... surely I'm not feeling sorry for myself (surely, not again?)... Okay - so maybe I am. I convinced myself to post my personal ad again ... that's where I'd met the last fellow. And I told myself "It's like riding a horse, you fall off, you get up and dust yourself off and get right back on again!" Yeah, sure - only the horse turned out to be cheating on me. And telling me lies. What a horse. What an ass.

At any rate - So I post my personal ad using this photo - with help from friends - working on how it sounds, how it makes ME sound (not too needy, not too pushy - Just Right, Goldilocks), trying to get a good title. My friends wanted to hear what some of the other ads have for a title... "Hi" "Hello" "R U the 1 4 me?" ... Knowing me and wanting to be helpful, their best suggestion was "Ho Ho Ho" --- keeping a holiday theme, making it clear that I'm in favor of lots of affection... It's just intimidating - some person is going to look at my picture and read my info and think, "What a nutcase?!" or "Gee, I want to know more about her!" or "No wonder she's single!" .....

After posting my ad, I've gotten over a dozen "views" - that means someone actually went to the vast trouble of clicking on my profile whether or not they read it... Not a one of the viewers left me a message. So it's rejection by proxy. I don't know what it is about me that turned them away. I clearly state I'm a bleeding heart liberal because I don't want to argue politics constantly. I clearly state I'm agnostic because I won't go to church with anyone. I say I like books and movies - which I do - does it make me look dull and boring? Oh well. It's like an itchy pair of underwear: Your only alternative is to go without --- you're constantly aware of how it feels -- you just wish you could find the exactly, right, perfectly fitting pair to last the rest of your life (with laundering, of course). But you get the idea.

Maybe if I cry and scream and stomp my feet? Maybe threaten to hold my breath?