a break from family history for family present.
The phone rang at 4:45 in the morning, mom said, and you know those calls never turn out well. It was my dad’s brother, Johnny.
Johnny and my aunt Theresa (mentioned in this entry: [Ok I can't find it, it was the one about me going with my parents to bury my grandparents ashes]) have been married for a long time. They have one of those marriages that’s marred by abuse of every kind. Fist fights were not uncommon between them - somewhere along the line she had to get a restraining order against him. They both drove motorcycles and frequented bars and the back alleys of those bars. They were both alcoholics until Johnny quit four months ago; Theresa did not quit, alcohol nor prescriptions drugs nor any other drug that came her way.
Last Saturday Theresa had gone out partying. Johnny had stayed home, probably trying desperately to hold on to his sobriety. Theresa came home some time during the night. Johnny woke up a few hours later, alone, wondering why she wasn’t in bed. He groggily checks the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom. It’s interesting how we can still want our mates in bed even after numerous fist fights, screaming fights and fights just for the hell of it, like animals that know no other real comfort other than each other’s presence, even if they’ve been clawing at each other all during the day. I’ve seen something like it in my two cats, who will start to box if they get within six inches of each other during the day, yet have been known to sleep touching each other during the night. Perhaps it’s some evolutionary instinct, herding together against the things of the night.
He found her in the hot tub, underneath the half of the cover that had not been lifted off. We don’t know if she slipped and fell in, or hit her head and then fell in, or got into the tub on purpose and then passed out. It was very traumatic for him, my mom said. He had to pull her out of the water and attempted to revive her with CPR, to no avail. The paramedics could not do it, either.
Either my dad’s brother Jim or Johnny himself called him early that morning; my dad is going to fly to their city this weekend for the funeral.
One of the saddest things about this is that her death will be investigated because it occurred under suspicious circumstances, due to the manner of death and to the history of abuse in their marriage, namely the restraining order (which had expired long ago). Perhaps the only thing sadder is the fact that there is a small chance that Johnny did it, and that the whole story he told of how he found her is untrue. He is one of the brothers who has had the hardest time coming to terms with all the abuse he suffered growing up, and that has led to him repeating some of the same behaviors that were inflicted upon himself. It’s one of those things you don’t want to think about a family member, yet we have to at least be aware of the possibility.
She was the same height as Johnny, tall for a woman but short for a man. Had just about the same body type, too, somehow stocky and muscular yet flabby at the same time. Long black hair that she liked to pull back using her sunglasses. Skin that had seen many tannings. Called me sweetheart and honey. Smoked me out when I told her I was hurting. When she saw a picture of my mom when she was younger and thinner, Theresa said Now that’s the Sue I remember! in a bitchy way. She laughed like my aunt Sandy.
Johnny and my aunt Theresa (mentioned in this entry: [Ok I can't find it, it was the one about me going with my parents to bury my grandparents ashes]) have been married for a long time. They have one of those marriages that’s marred by abuse of every kind. Fist fights were not uncommon between them - somewhere along the line she had to get a restraining order against him. They both drove motorcycles and frequented bars and the back alleys of those bars. They were both alcoholics until Johnny quit four months ago; Theresa did not quit, alcohol nor prescriptions drugs nor any other drug that came her way.
Last Saturday Theresa had gone out partying. Johnny had stayed home, probably trying desperately to hold on to his sobriety. Theresa came home some time during the night. Johnny woke up a few hours later, alone, wondering why she wasn’t in bed. He groggily checks the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom. It’s interesting how we can still want our mates in bed even after numerous fist fights, screaming fights and fights just for the hell of it, like animals that know no other real comfort other than each other’s presence, even if they’ve been clawing at each other all during the day. I’ve seen something like it in my two cats, who will start to box if they get within six inches of each other during the day, yet have been known to sleep touching each other during the night. Perhaps it’s some evolutionary instinct, herding together against the things of the night.
He found her in the hot tub, underneath the half of the cover that had not been lifted off. We don’t know if she slipped and fell in, or hit her head and then fell in, or got into the tub on purpose and then passed out. It was very traumatic for him, my mom said. He had to pull her out of the water and attempted to revive her with CPR, to no avail. The paramedics could not do it, either.
Either my dad’s brother Jim or Johnny himself called him early that morning; my dad is going to fly to their city this weekend for the funeral.
One of the saddest things about this is that her death will be investigated because it occurred under suspicious circumstances, due to the manner of death and to the history of abuse in their marriage, namely the restraining order (which had expired long ago). Perhaps the only thing sadder is the fact that there is a small chance that Johnny did it, and that the whole story he told of how he found her is untrue. He is one of the brothers who has had the hardest time coming to terms with all the abuse he suffered growing up, and that has led to him repeating some of the same behaviors that were inflicted upon himself. It’s one of those things you don’t want to think about a family member, yet we have to at least be aware of the possibility.
She was the same height as Johnny, tall for a woman but short for a man. Had just about the same body type, too, somehow stocky and muscular yet flabby at the same time. Long black hair that she liked to pull back using her sunglasses. Skin that had seen many tannings. Called me sweetheart and honey. Smoked me out when I told her I was hurting. When she saw a picture of my mom when she was younger and thinner, Theresa said Now that’s the Sue I remember! in a bitchy way. She laughed like my aunt Sandy.