Pain Remembers

Do you have any idea how beautiful

your pain is?

Your pain remembers his birth.

It remembers his eyes

meeting yours

as he nurses at your breast,

and then breaks into a smile

as he holds your nipple

in his still unbroken gums.

I love you, Mom.

Your pain sees him

on the red carpet

in his yellow, knit jammies,

press up on his hands and knees

for the first time

and rock back and forth

a look of shock

then smiling exaltedly

in triumph.

Mom, look!

I am the first baby

in the world

ever!

to do this!

I am king of my hands

and my knees!

Your pain sees him in his highchair

making faces to make you laugh.

Eleven months old,

scrunching up his eyes and nose

pursing his lips into a monstrous pose

and snorting,

only to make his mother and father,

his sister and his brothers

laugh out loud.

A comedian at eleven months,

something he only grew into,

not out of.

Your pain remembers.

Your pain straightens its back at his call,

“Lucy, I’m home!”

To turn from your gardening to see him

down the street,

rounding the corner on his bike,

hands in the air,

face full of freckles,

golden hair,

“I love you, Mom!”

It is your pain that remembers that day

in the kitchen,

that time you went to give him a hug,

and he objected, in his new, teen-aged voice,

“Excuse me, this is my personal space.”

Ahhh.  A manling now,

pushing you back

with newly discovered

constitutional rights.

Your pain sees him dressed and handsome for prom

at the side of a gorgeous brunette,

one moment sophisticated in tux and gown,

the next she laughing uncontrollably at his quip

and he, trying not to crack up at his own hilarity,

his Adams Apple about to burst

raucous laughter through his

firmly pressed jaw.

It’s there,

in the photo.

Your pain sees it.

Your pain sees his graduation.

It sees his going off to college,

then his struggle to be accepted

into the university,

and his triumph,

despite his dyslexia.

His uncle’s dyslexia.

The uncle who’s voice he shared,

whose drollness he shared,

whose insular nature he shared.

Their voice-mail message is even the same,

“Hi, you’ve reached Jim.  Leave a message.”

“Hi, you’ve reached Alex.  Leave a message.”,

Even though they saw one another only rarely.

Then, his last words to you,

“Thanks, Mom.

I love you.”

Your pain thanks God that

Love was the last word.

And he is dead now.

He died in the crib.

He died in the car.

He died in the war.

He died in a fight.

He died from a bullet.

He died from cancer.

He died from an overdose.

He died from depression.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter why or how.

It doesn’t matter who is to blame.

Even your pain cannot bring him back.

But your pain remembers.

If I Were Your Shaman

If I were your shaman

the women of the village would come chanting,

barefoot

by candle light,

and take you from your husband and your sons

and carry you from your dwelling.

Songs we would sing softly in your honor.

while we prepared for you a hot bath

scented with Frankincense and seasoned with prayers.

As you soaked in the steaming tub,

we would scrub the grief from your back and your feet,

and massage your weary shoulders,

and tenderly pull and pinch the pain from your hair and your face,

and anoint your body with Myrrh and Sandalwood.

We would wrap you in the softest robe

and place you in a nest of pillows by a glowing fire

and give you fine Irish whiskey to warm you from inside.

The snake of death and rebirth, she who sheds her skin,

her old self, to be born anew,

we would tattoo ‘round your arms.

And we would hold you close

and honor you

and call you blessed.

 

And we the village would do this,

as one

for our sister

who is part of us,

part of a single, living organism of many,

just as you and your husband and your two sons

are a single, living organism of family.

And you are dying.

You are all dying with the death of the One.

And when you have passed through this fire

you will be three as one.

You will have shed the skin

of the family you know.

You will take one step, then another

without the One.

And you will become the New and yet the Ancient.

The Reborn.  The Changed.  The Blessed.  The Sacred.

 

But I am not your Shaman.

And we cannot carry you off

and bathe you,

and care for you,

and tattoo snakes on your body,

and dance ourselves into a trance,

and blow your wandering Spirit

back into your grieving body.

All we can do is bring you a terrine of homemade soup,

a loaf of chewy sour dough

and a bottle of Far Niente,

and give you any help

our old souls

can remember how to give.

With Love.

Copyright Susan Barich 2009

Poetry

“Poetry is the art of creating language against which there is no defense.”

David Whyte

Two Years

Last Tuesday, August 6 marked the two-year anniversary of our losing Alex.  Thank you to all his friends who called me and supported me over this time.  

I did spend 5 or 6 weeks this spring at our family cabin — and it really IS a cabin — in the redwoods recovering my ability to deal with my fellow human beings after a frustrating emotional roller coaster of a winter supporting Jessica’s appeal and re-sentencing in the face of a justice system that cares more about vengeance and “setting an example” than justice.  

While at the cabin I read all the sympathy cards sent to me at Alex’s passing, thanked each person and tossed each one into the fire.  One morning I had a cigarette, half a glass of wine and an ice cream cone for breakfast.  I stood on the deck looking out into the woods and sobbing, puffing on that cigarette and feeling such regret for Alex and his friends.  Such regret that he had to quit us and his life so soon.  I sat with Alex.  I waltzed with Alex on the wood cabin floor.  I smoked cigarettes with Alex.  We talked by the fire. 

Ironically, I just heard today that Jessica will be released from Chowchilla in mid-August.  What a week, non?  I am delighted to have good news in our lives!  Her mom will drive out from Colorado and pick her up.  She has to stay in Santa Barbara County during her parole.  

This chapter is finally over.  This horrible event that took Alex from us and ended Jessica’s life, as she knew it, is now over. It has been defeated.  We can all look forward now to creating positive outcomes for both Jessica and Alex.  Can’t explain it any better than that.

Love to all,

Susan

Out by Christmas

Jessica was re-sentenced today by Judge Hill to 3 years in state prison at 50% credit, down from 5 and a half at 15% credit.  Essentially, this means that instead of being in high-security for another 4 years, she should be out by Christmas. 

Thanks to all of you who have followed this and held good thoughts for us.  Going back to the woods.

Susan

Judge Lodge Passed Away Yesterday

Dear all,

Joe died in his sleep this morning, May 5, 2008, at about 7:30 AM.  His family was by his side. He lived gallantly with his lymphoma for ten years and he died gallantly, with love and grace and humor.

A few hours before he died he read the following poem to his family:

Banquet at the Tso Family Manor

The windy forest is checkered

By the light of the setting,

Waning moon.  I tune the lute,

Its strings are moist with dew.

The brook flows in the darkness

Below the flower path.  The thatched

Roof is crowned with contellations.

As I write, the candles burn short.

Our wits grow sharp as swords while

The wine goes round. When the poem

Contest is ended, someone 

Sings a song of the South.  And

I think of my little boat,

And long to be on my way.  TU FU

 

Later he told us this story:

A cardinal and a judge arrived at the Pearly Gates at the same time.  St. Peter took the judge on a tour of the heavenly realm and gave him the finest accommodations.  It took some time before St. Peter got back to the gates.

The cardinal had become impatient.  ”I’m a cardinal.  How come you kept me waiting?”  St. Peter replied, “You may be a cardinal, but this is the first time we’ve gotten a judge.”

Joe must have been saving this story for a long time.

He read the obituary he’d written to us, too.

As fits with my character, I have written my own obituary.  I was born February 21, 1932, in St. Paul, MN, and now I have died in Santa Barbara, CA.  My peace in life was my wife, Sheila, and my dear children. My journey, from my 1950‚s days as a philosophy major at the University of Michigan, has been the exploration of all the great cosmic questions surrounding our lives.  For some years I have felt at peace with the answers and insights I have found.  I wish I could pass them on to those I love.  It cannot be done.  Each of us must find our own pathway through the density and darkness to at last find that you are “back in Kansas”, standing where you were, so to speak, with everything so clear and obvious as to make you even question whether in fact you did “journey”.  

I now end this with a deliberate (and important) misquote from Dylan Thomas

– I “DO go gentle into that good night”.

He DID go gentle into that good night, sending his love to you all.  

Sheila Lodge and family

 

————————————————————

 

 

 

There will be no memorial.  Joe considered his in-lieu of retirement party

in September, 2002, as his memorial… and he got to be there!  

 

 

 

He donated his body to the UCLA medical school, and it is on its way there.

 There is a shortage of cadavers, and he would have been pleased to know

that even in death he could be useful.

 

 

 

Donations may be made to Planned Parenthood of Santa Barbara, Ventura and

San Luis Obispo Counties, 518 Garden Street, Santa Barbara, CA 93101

 

Your Justice System in Action

It is with a heavy heart that I report that we still do not have a fair, timely and just sentence for Jessica.

Two weeks ago Judge Eskin continued the sentencing till this afternoon.  This gave Judge Lodge two weeks to get back in the saddle, at which time, if Lodge were not back, Judge Eskin would hear the case.  

Yesterday morning Judge Lodge was NOT back, and Judge Eskin agreed to hear.  At 11:00 a.m., D.A. Smith requested that Judge Eskin read the entire transcript of the January ‘06 hearing.  He agreed to do that, and planned to spend last evening reviewing the case.  At 3:00 Smith “disqualified” Judge Eskin, because he was going to hear the case.  

The third judge is Hill.  Hill will NOT hear the case.  He is this morning continuing it to his criminal calendar this Thursday, at which time he will continue it till Judge Lodge returns.

I am devastated.  I feel so helpless.  It’s as if Alex is dying again, and I have failed to help.  I’m going away.

Susan

April 15, Judge Eskin’s Court Room

Alan and I, along with Jessica’s mother, Melanie, showed up for court on April 8 only to find Judge Lodge was in the hospital.  The case was continued to April 15.  We all showed again, only to find that the new judge, Eskin, is going to wait a couple of weeks to see if Lodge gets back.  If he is not back, Eskin will have had time to review all the materials and will make a judgement on the resentencing.

So this week, Smith said that Eskin should not hear the matter, because this was a very complicated case (made complicated only by her) and Lodge would be back in a week.  So Steve said, no, he had spoken with Lodge’s clerk, and Lodge wouldn’t be back till the 28th.  

Eskin asked Steve what his concern over Lodge’s judgement was (paraphrasing here).    Steve said that Lodge intends to now impose the most severe sentence on the manslaughter charge, when he had originally given Jessica the lightest sentence on it on her merits.  So Smith said, no, he didn’t say he would do that, and then Steve grabbed his binder and read from the transcript of the hearing in early February where Lodge said, “This is the most aggravated case of vehicular manslaughter I’ve ever seen. . . I intend to be very strict.”

Eskin pushed Steve again about why he did not want to wait for Lodge.  Steve cocked his hip, pulled his jacket back, put his left hand on his hip, and put his right hand on the podium and said, “Well to be quite honest, I have seen the file on this case.  Judge Lodge has marked up, underlined and checked off points in Ms. Smith’s briefs.  None of the defense materials, the 45 letters, my briefs, have been touched.  He hasn’t read them.”

Then Steve pointed out to Eskin that Jessica earns 2 days credit for every day she spends in prison, but only 6 days for every 4 she spends in county jail, and that she has been sitting in county jail now since the beginning of February losing credits.  Eskin expressed concern about this.  He seems like a very thoughtful guy.

Then Smith reiterated that the hearing could not go forth under Eskin, because Lodge had the benefit of all the live testimony.  She said that a piece of paper could not convey the emotions of live testimony.  Eskin didn’t seem to like that at all.  I think he feels he could do a pretty good job if he read everything.

But I believe Eskin’s decision to give Lodge till the 29th to return to work, and then for him to take the case, if Lodge is NOT back, is a wise and, dare I say it, judicious, decision.   In the moment, it was disappointing for Jessica, who is paraded in in shackles every time this happens.  The emotional roller coaster is hard on all of us, but must be the worst for her.

So, we will be there on the 29th at 1:30, and we will have statements to make — to whichever judge.  I hope that if it is Lodge, that he is listening.

Susan

April 8, Judge Lodge in the Hospital

When we all arrived at the courthouse Tuesday morning, Johnny on the spot at 8:30 a.m., after tossing and turning half the night and wondering how to get a judge who had already made up his mind to listen to us and not ignore our opinion that Jessica is, indeed, a good young woman and not evil demon spawn as the D.A. has made out, (breath) the bailiff came out and told us the judge was in the hospital.

Now, we do not wish Judge Lodge ill, and we hope he has a good long period of bed rest. Any circumstances that brings this case before ANY other judge in Santa Barbara County is a boon to Jessica. 

So, you can imagine we were quite jubilant, not that the judge was sick, but that 1) we wouldn’t have to spill our guts only to be ignored and snubbed again, and 2) there’s a chance Jessica could get a different judge for the re-sentencing.  

They did bring Jessica into the courtroom, shackled wrists and ankles between two other woman. We could not talk to her;  her mother could not give her a hug. The three were seated in a front row.  I was fortunate to catch her eye across the courtroom.  I blew her a kiss.  She smiled the slightest smile and sat back so as not to see me too well.  She doesn’t want anyone to see her smiling, lest she be accused of smiling in court whilst Alex is dead.  It is all quite complex, the game the systems dictates we ALL play. 

Do you know how everyone feels when there is a disastrous earthquake, and so much death, and people search in the wreckage for survivors, and after 6 days someone finds a baby still alive, and there is hope?  Where there is life, there is hope.  That’s how I feel about Jessica.  She is hope that this wreck that killed Alex will not be victorious over both of their lives.  That she will come through this fire and find a way to get a life back.  

I told her mother, “Both of our children died in that wreck.”  And it’s true.  The person Jessica saw in front of her, the life she would have had, died in that wreck, as did many peoples’.  She must survive the testing fires, survive the abuses of prison and the hardships of jail and the bad opinions of the judge and so many others who will always be there to tell her she’s a bad person.  If she can do that, then she must try to build a life for the person she will have become, a person she never meant to be.  A person she may not even know.  I admire her courage under fire.  

She is covered with physical sores, and yet she looked beautiful to me as she sat, listening to her attorney, her face turned up to him as he stood above her.  She is slim and placid and vulnerable.  

I understand that Jessica is the individual most directly responsible for Alex’s death.  But there is plenty of guilt to go around.  And most of all, I think Alex would accept most of the responsibility for making a very poor decision to get into a car after both he and the driver had had too much to drink.  We all want to run the film backwards and make sure he stays at the party house, as he had planned.  

The re-sentencing was re-scheduled for NEXT Tuesday, the 15th.  We will know by Friday or Monday if it will go ahead at that time.

We wish Judge Lodge the best and hope he gets lots o’ bed rest for a couple of weeks.

Thanks, all you wonderful people!

Susan

Let’s Begin the Healing

This sentencing is no longer about Jessica and Alex. At the February 20 hearing, the judge read from the previous hearing transcripts about Sara having to suffer at the loss of her dog. NO MENTION WAS MADE OF ALEX. We need to remind the court that this is about Alex and Jessica.

If you would like to support the beginning of the healing, instead of letting the blackness pervade, send your comments to this blog, and I’ll see that Steve gets them.