Thursday, May 09, 2013

April 17: In Memory of Mary Tornga.

1. the voice was melancholy over the phone today
it isn't that we don't want to crawl into the plane and take our bodies to hawaii
but we leave a grieving uncle
who cant eat cant sleep
holds the toilet beneath his chin upchucking food he cannot keep down
and the beautiful baker, is stiff, eyes red and cold

2.
kayakers found your body under the current of the grand river
before the flood
bloated and unrecognizable

hard to believe a few weeks ago, easter
your daughter and I discussed gluten free brownies as
she sipped a bloody mary across from you
your husband
[now with red eyes enters the stale room identifying your body
bloated against the pink shirt he got you last friday]
he teased you on easter about your addiction for ordering appetizers

your eyes, sharks
protecting
piercing but sparkling as you sipped your drink

3. recently
you undated your facebook
a picture of you both, he with a kissing face

4. Sunday
you went missing
and how he misses you

the dogs, noses to the ground after sniffing your room, clothes, shoes
trying for hours to seek you out
as did the helicopter running his fan like a furious helmet overhead

the grand river though,
it had a mouth that night
I never knew it to have a mouth
not until now
til it took your legs, your feet in and held on with its teeth
the branches the current
whatever it was that trapped you there

we hoped for a day she was wrong
that it was not your shoe they had found
that you'd call
your husband love-sick with anxiety
puking with worry
afraid his last words to you were going to be the angry ones
that drove you from the vehicle that night

the last night

5.
5 am
their backs long across their pilates balls
stretching they talked as if they knew you
their voices proud and informative
as if they had something to do with the search
the find
your life

I wanted to yell at them and tell them they know nothing
the room dimlit I could not see their expressions

they dont even know you and can barely remember your full name
or that Uncle Greg deeply adored you or that
your nephews shoulders are heavy with grief that is hard for him to express with tears

I told them you were my Aunt, because you are now
to shut them up
to make them see that your story is more than a bad decision you made at one am
to caution their words

when I got married you threw me a shower with denise and the beautiful baker, maria your daughter
there were towers of delicate cupcakes and you were so humble about it that I didnt know until later that you had thrown part of it while I ate egg-pie and sweated through my turquoise shirt as the middle-aged women fussed over me
you were the most comfortable person to be around

6. On easter, I remember
you were just far enough away that I did not run to hug you but instead waved across the lot
know that I wanted to as max opened my door that day and talked about your successful job
i told max that I liked you

7. the barber scoffed at your husband unaware
that his grieving soul was in the mint colored waiting room, listening.

8. they said you looked good that day, laying in your coffin
the water had kept your body cool
enough to make you recognizable the day the put you in the ground

Uncle Greg, I heard kissed you over and over as you lay still in your box

we will not forget you,  my new Aunt Mary.

1 comment:

J.K. English said...

Oh Chelsea. Sad, but thank you for making her more than just a missing person. A life. Somebody. I never met her, but would have loved to with the way you have spoken of her. I am sorry for your loss.