1059 NO! NO! NOT AGAIN! REVISITED 2

2
2002
Five and a half decades have passed since Janet’s death.  My mother and I sit, side by side, on the double porch swing, which hangs from ropes, fastened to the ceiling of my back yard patio.  While rocking, peacefully, gazing beyond the tallest peak of 'my' mountain, which rises majestically behind my house up into the expanse of the desert's brilliant, blue sky, I listen intently to Mom, describing her depression following Janet’s 'disappearance' from our lives.  I remember asking, “Mom, who took care of me? Grandma Ella?”

For a moment, my question sweeps my mother’s thoughts more deeply into that sorrowful time.  Then, as her mind re-engages with me, Mom's soft, brown eyes turn toward mine, and my beautiful, newly widowed, white haired, eighty-eight year old, close friend replies, “I really don’t remember who took care of you, Annie. We were all in a state of shock.  I think you were taken to Grandma Bailey’s.”

“But, Mom, Janet’s death was only four months after Grandpa's massive, heart attack.  Grandma Bailey must have been in deep mourning, because Grandpa’s death, at fifty-two, was utterly unexpected.  I remember Dad telling me how much Grandma had adored Grandpa.  That her life had revolved around his.  The fact that two, shocking deaths hit everyone in our close knit family in a matter of weeks suggests tremendous shock waves of grief engulfing everyone in Grandma Bailey's house right before Janet's loss hit our own.”

Nodding her head in thoughtful agreement, Mom’s eyes look troubled and as I watch her gazing into a faraway time, she continues, “That was a terribly sad year for everyone.”

“Mom, think of the heavy burden Dad must have carried after losing his father and daughter, so abruptly.   Aunt Sari and Aunt Risa were single, young women, who being in their twenties, still lived at home with Grandma B.  Since Dad worked with his father, Grandpa’s death made Dad the head of both households and the family business, as well.  When did he have time to grieve for either loss?  After Janet’s death, where did Dad pack his grief when he left the apartment, each morning, and arrived at the store, which he'd run with his dad?"

As Mom and I glide back and forth, the even cadence of the swing feels as soothing as a balm, washing over old wounds, which I suddenly realize had been in need of healing within—me.  Until that moment, I'd considered my Grandpa's death and Janet's death my parents' loss.  While my mother and I swing for a few solemn moments in companionable silence, my perceptions sharpen, and as my train of thought expands to include the confounded reactions of a three year old child, I open up with: “There’s so much we don’t know about our parents’ lives.  So much we don’t understand about the under currents, which influence the earliest years of each person's character development.” 

At this point, Mom goes on to tell me how my Grandpa Yacob adored me.  That he'd grab every eye and bend every ear with photos and stories of 'his' Annie.  That he'd stride into our apartment and awaken me from a deep sleep, lifting me out of my bed, so eager was he to see my smile.  Hear my laugh.  Enjoy my antics.

Then, one day, he was gone … without a trace … never to welcome me into his embrace … too soon, too soon …

After several moments of silence, I listen up as Mom's memory speaks aloud, again:

"Janet’s tiny coffin had been placed at the foot of Grandpa’s brand new grave"—then my mother's mind jogs, releasing this long-forgotten memory:  “No.  Wait.  Janet had her own grave.  Next to Grandpa’s.  I remember a small headstone with a bird in flight—as though, one day, Janet had simply flown away.

Still nestling beside me on the swing, Mom’s memory sweeps over this series of momentous dates:  “Grandpa died in July of 1946; I gave birth to Janet several weeks later on September 4^th; then she died on November 23^rd  and  …”

 “What?” I blurt out, interrupting Mom's musings, and as my head spins to face her, my foot hits the Kool deck, stopping the swing with a jolt!  “November 23^rd?”  Oh my God, Mom!  How awful!  I never knew Janet died on November 23rd!