Found You
This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.
Even though Grandma is dying, she has lived a long and happy life. She was in remarkable good health at the age of 97 before being diagnosed with cancer three months ago. She made it abundantly clear from the get-go that she did not intend to oppose it. There was no chemotherapy, radiation, or surgery. She asked, “Just keep me comfortable and let me die in my own home.” I was supposed to stay with her in her house with my sister Laurie, but Laurie works a lot. I pretty much stay here all the time. Fortunately, my position is in remote research.
When I told Grandma that I could work from home, her house, or wherever I happened to be, she was skeptical. She sees a job as a place to go every day rather than something that can be accomplished by simply opening your laptop.
At her dining room table, I set up a temporary office. I decide to check on grandma after working in silence for a while. She is, indeed, dozing off in her room. She is sleeping more and experiencing more confusion, as I have observed.
Hospice comes by once a day to check her vitals, determine whether she requires additional medications, and inform us of her condition.
I begin to reflect on my grandmother’s life. the life about to come to an end. I need to consider that, as well as the obituary. I start making a few notes.
Annie Lee Morton was born in 1928 to Deborah and LeRoy Morton. She spent her childhood in Smith County. She got a job at the former Songbird Drugstore’s snack counter when she was 16 years old. She met John Joseph Lane, also known as JoJo to everyone, there. They tied the knot in 1950 and had a son in 1955. After that, Mrs. Lane relocated to Livingston. In 1964, she started working as a secretary at the Renault Insurance Agency, where she stayed until she retired in 2002. Mrs. Lane continued to be involved with the local theater, the library, and local charities after she retired. She is fondly remembered by many in the community. Her son, Jacob Lane, passed away a few years before her. His daughters, Maddie Lane and Laurie Lane, survive her.
The notes in front of me catch my attention. After 97 years, I still can’t believe that’s all there is. More should be available.
I view the scene outside. There are a lot of brown, dry leaves in the backyard. The yard was no exception to my grandmother’s impeccable tidyness. She herself raked those leaves up until the cancer. She will see how neglected the yard is if she looks out the window of her bedroom, I believe.
As I retrieve the rake from the shed in the backyard, I consider the brief obituary. Grandma’s life was really one big black hole. It was the void that her husband and my grandfather, John Joseph Lane, or JoJo, as he was known to everyone, had left behind.
When I was nine, my dad was killed in a car accident. I then developed a burning desire to learn everything I could about his family and life. The majority of my father’s belongings were stored away by my mother. They did not provide any insight into his true identity as I perused them. As a result, whenever I spent time with my grandmother, I turned to her for advice. I first discovered photos of my father’s father, JoJo, when I rummaged through his old room.
JoJo was always praised by Grandma. He was a good husband and father. They were content and in love. JoJo was adored by my dad when he was a boy.
“What took place with him?” I thought I asked grandma. Was he slain?”
Despite having the face of a younger woman, she was in her seventies at the time. Her eyes became serious as her smile vanished. She stated, “He left one day.
However, where did he go? I carried on. I had no concept of separation, abandonment, or heartbreak when I was nine years old.
“I’m not sure, honey. She elaborated, “He had lost his job, and we were struggling.” Sometimes, I think he just went somewhere and decided to go missing.
The idea shocked and horrified me, I remember. I had no idea that people could simply vanish when I was a child. Except for the kidnapped children. Yet adults? They were never supposed to vanish.
After that, I didn’t ask any more pointed questions about JoJo, but grandma would occasionally make a comment that would give me some insight. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes, peas, and yeast rolls was his favorite meal. He could dance well. JoJo was aware that my grandmother was pregnant with a boy. He couldn’t wait to have a son.
When my dad was eight years old, he then left. It was illogical.
Later, I had inquired about the entire situation to my mother. She didn’t say a word. My father claims that after falling asleep one night, JoJo was gone the next morning.
As I rake the leaves into piles, this comes to mind. I begin at the yard’s perimeter and work my way toward its center. Despite the cool temperature, I am already beginning to sweat because I am out of shape.
I’m going to go inside and take a break with one more drag of the rake across the ground. I can’t believe these leaves were raked by my 97-year-old grandmother. When I realize that the rake is stuck on something, my thoughts are interrupted. I lift it up to see that the rake is entangled with a leather strap because I can’t seem to pull it toward me.
As I bend down and push the grass and leaves away, I realize that the strap is connected to a buried object. I feel something give way, but it’s a deep one, as I pull harder on the strap. I dig until I can see the top of a leather bag with a small garden trowel I got from the shed. I finally get the item out after a few minutes of pulling and digging. It is a worn-out leather purse that is stiff, scuffed, and covered in mud.
An outdated clasp is on top. The kind with two pieces of metal that wrap around each other and snap shut when pushed shut. Despite its rust, I am able to open the purse with some effort.
I can see that the purse is empty except for a bundle that is wrapped in wax paper when I look down into the black plastic lining. When I unfold it, the paper is brittle. I discover a smaller envelope inside a larger envelope with brown stains. When I open it, I discover even more wax paper and, at last, a bulky bundle of folded notebook paper that has been tied with string. I open the paper and untie the string. It appears to be some kind of letter. There is only one sentence on the first page: In the precise cursive script of my grandmother, “Dear JoJo, I am so sorry,”
I hear a car enter the driveway in front of the house at that exact moment. The hospice assistant is present. I’m in a panic. I enter the house, making a pit stop in the kitchen. I don’t want anyone to see me with these papers for some reason. Before I open the front door to greet the hospice aide, I put everything under the kitchen sink.
When we enter her bedroom, Grandma wakes up. When she sees the aide wrap the blood pressure cuff around her upper arm, she is perplexed.
“What are you doing?!” She yells at the assistant.
LeVonna is on the name tag of the aide. She grins at my grandmother. Miss Lane, I’m just checking in on you, testing the brakes, and looking under the hood. My grandmother chuckles. She states, “I think my transmission is working.”
We all chuckle. I tell her, “Maybe, but your motor is still running, grandma.”
I turn on the kettle and bring some warm chamomile tea up to the bedroom after LeVonna has left, but grandma has already gone back to sleep. I think it won’t be long now.
I reach under the sink to retrieve the papers. “Dear JoJo, I am so sorry,” I think as I read that first page once more. I continue reading by flipping to the next page. The handwriting of my grandmother was unmistakable.
‘Date: You are no more, JoJo, as of Monday, November 25, 1963. I am aware of your location, but I am unable to conceal it from anyone. Therefore, I’ll tell the pages. The pages alone will know. I’ll write this down. I will deep-bury it. Deep within me, as well as the ground.
Three months ago, JoJo lost his job. He had a job with Wilhelm’s furniture. He had been there for years until the owner passed away, closing the business and firing everyone.
We weren’t worried at first, but when JoJo started looking for work, he couldn’t. Neither the stores nor the factories were hiring. Then we ran out of rent. The landlord said he would work with us, but the gas was turned off when the bill wasn’t paid. The temperature was dropping. I dressed in layers, and our boy also did the same. I made meals out of butter, salt, pepper, and rice from scraps.
We eventually got into a fight. I told JoJo that he was not the kind of man or father who could feed his child or keep him warm.
I will never forget the look on your face as you left that night, JoJo.
I took a moment to look up. Despite the fact that there had been a disagreement, JoJo was never seen again or heard from.
In the hope of finding answers, I turned to the third page. This page was later written by Grandma.
‘Date: You returned on November 26, 1963, JoJo. You went away, but when you got back, you had money. a sizable sum of cash. It appeared absurd. I saw that it was blood after it was covered in something. Additionally, you claimed that your side bleeding was nothing. You advised me to conceal the funds. Use some of it to pay for food, gas, and rent, but keep the rest hidden.
You then stated that you had to leave. JoJo, you stated that you would visit our cave, which was the one we used to visit when we were dating. In a couple of days, you would return. I was to inform anyone who inquired that you were out of town looking for work. Moreover, that you would return. However, you never returned.’
A newspaper article was written on the handwritten pages. It was about a robbery that took place in a pub in two counties away.
I carefully read the article, wondering what it had to do with JoJo.
All capital letters were large and bold in the headline:
“ROBBERY GONE WRONG, ONE DEAD, MONEY MISSING” Officials are still trying to figure out what took place at Big Al’s Tavern on November 23, 1963. It was said that the tavern wasn’t very busy, and the last person who left at midnight said that Al Harvey, the owner, was cleaning the counter like he usually does at closing time. Big Al would be found dead on the floor of the tavern the following morning, and a blood trail would lead out the door. Unfortunately, heavy rain throughout the night and early morning prevented further tracking. A man wearing a red checked shirt was seen running into the woods behind the tavern, according to eyewitness accounts.
Therefore, JoJo had committed a robbery in an effort to support his family. Although it was almost heroic, I couldn’t shake the grim realization that he had inadvertently killed a man.
I see another newspaper clipping as I look down into the bundle of paper.
Sheriff Earnest Glenn stated in an interview that officers have been able to determine what probably occurred during the robbery at Big Al’s Tavern on the fateful night of November 23, just one day after our president’s assassination. Someone broke into Big Al’s just after closing to rob the tavern while the nation was mourning. However, Big Al was no slouch and had other plans for the offender. The amount of blood that was spilled suggested that the unidentified assailant had been deeply stabbed at least once. Sadly, Big Al died as a result of a head injury sustained when he fell and struck the wooden bar top while falling. Glen made the following statement: The assailant will look for a hospital wherever he is; he will need to be patched up somewhere. We’ll locate him. We will investigate charges of murder, regardless of whether Al died from the fall.’
Dated on the following page was Friday, December 6, 1963. In grandma’s handwriting, it read as follows:
I went to the cave, dear JoJo. I went to the cave where we used to go, where we used to talk and love each other for hours, even though you told me to wait. You were there, my dear. I was initially glad to see you seated against the wall. Then I saw your marble-cold skin, your blind eyes, and the blood that had gushed out of you. You were in front of me at the same time that you left. No one will know. No one will ever know what you did or where you are because I love you. Say goodbye to my love.’
She had written one more thing after that: I concluded that JoJo must have received $5576,00 from the robbery.
I was floored. The answer to the mystery that befell our family was all here. In order to feed and keep his family warm, JoJo had committed a robbery. He and the business’s owner got into a fight. The struggle resulted in the death of the other man, JoJo sustained severe injuries. JoJo figured out how to make it home, give grandmother the cash and take shelter in a cavern, where he passed on from his wounds.
I can hear my grandmother getting up upstairs. I dash upstairs after concealing the papers beneath the couch cushion. She has gotten out of bed and is so lost.
“I have to get to work now.” She informs me.
“Where?” I ask.
She has no patience for me. Stupid drugstore! What, exactly, are you?
“I’m Maddie’s granddaughter.” I respond.
She chuckles. I am only 18 years old, so I do not have a granddaughter!”
I am aware that her thoughts are somewhere in the past, prior to JoJo’s devastation.
“Do you have a partner?” I ask quietly.
Grandma grins once more. He’s called JoJo, and he’s so handsome! We can be alone there when he takes me courting in the cave behind the old Myers farm on occasion.
The smile then vanishes. I’m lost. She demands.
I assist her in returning to the bed and inform her that she is home.
She has finished speaking at that point. The following night, Grandma dies.
I never reveal the letters and keep them hidden in my own apartment.
To locate the former Myers farm, I had to look through old property records for several days. There is currently a mall there, but it has long since been abandoned and closed. Behind it, the woods are still intact. I decided to go on a hike there after waiting for the weather to get warmer.
I discovered the cave. Near the entrance, there was some trash and graffiti. It was cool and dark inside. It dug a very deep hole in the mountain’s side. I had brought a long spool of fishing line with me, tied it to a tree outside, and then unwound it as I walked further into the pitch-black abyss. I didn’t want to get lost because I didn’t know how big it was. I kept walking with my flashlight moving through the pitch-black until I came across nothing. Then I saw a ray of sunlight shining through a rock crevice. I entered a separate room as I approached this light.
I also initially thought it was empty. Then I saw the human figure still hunched over a large boulder. JoJo Lane’s skeleton is still in place. He still wears the blue jeans, red-checked button-up shirt, and black cowboy boots that he put on one morning in November 1963. A skeletal hand is reaching out toward me as the skull grins. I kneel to examine the devoid eye sockets. “Find you,” I declare. JoJo fails to respond. I spend some time with my grandfather. The sunlight is beginning to fade, and the cave is still. To hold the skeletal hand, I reach over. What to do takes a great deal of thought. Should I notify the authorities? Should I report anonymously? Should I inform my mother and sister?
Then I realize that I do not need to make a decision today. He has lived here for a long time. A few additional years won’t hurt. For now, I’ll leave him alone. I can almost feel him looking at me as I get up from the cave floor. I turn around, half expecting him to come to life and tell me to stay put.
The skeleton remains seated. With no expectations. a lack of inquiry.
After saying my farewells to JoJo, I turn to follow my fishing line through the pitch-black cave and into the present, leaving JoJo to sit where the past left him.
