John Putnam's Journal
May 26, 2003 (part 1)
Here is what I recall so far - Monday, May 26th, 2003 - Audrey and I receive a call at our North Richland Hills home around 6:00am. Audrey does not answer the first set of rings. The second time her phone rings she answers. I hear, "Hello. What? O.K. O.K. Do you need us to come over right now? O.K. We are on the way." I was lying there in bed awake listening. I knew it was my 93 year-old grandfather, surely he had passed away during the night and dad was calling to let us know. When she finished the call I asked her, "Grandpa?" She said, "No, it's your sister. She is missing." By now I am out of the bed putting on some shorts and a t-shirt. Audrey is doing the same. All we had was the light from the bathroom coming into our bedroom. I said, "Missing?" Audrey said, "Yeah, just 'missing'." As we got in the car and headed for mom and dad's house in Grapevine, my mind was wandering, obviously. 'Missing', missing how? Did she get into an argument with her boyfriend and leave 'missing'? Did she go the bathroom in a restaurant or club and never come back 'missing'? What are we talking about here, 'missing'? I knew she was somewhere down near San Antonio, that was it. The night before, Audrey and I had been at mom and dad's house for a cook out with friends. We arrived back at our home around midnight. When Audrey and I left at 6am to go back over there, it seemed like it was still dark outside. It may have been earlier. As we drove over there, I kept saying to myself 'missing', 'missing'. What does that mean? Finally about 5 minutes from mom and dad's house I told Audrey, "I will tell you this. She isn't missing, she's dead." "This is not good", I added, "this is not good." Audrey was speechless, but she knew too. As we pulled up the hill to mom and dad's house, we could see the unmarked police car with its blue and red light bar in the back windshield. I said it again, "She is gone, she is dead." We parked and walked with deliberation to the front door. I charged in to find my dad looking as disheveled as I have ever seen a person. His robe was hanging awkwardly and his face was pouring fluids. His eyes were shut and he was sobbing terribly. Mother's shoulders were slumped with her head laying back on them with the same distraught expression as if someone was beating her physically and there was nothing she could do about it. The police chaplain was obviously waiting for another family member to show up before he left. And as soon as I walked in, he was out the door. As I walked in, I shouted, "What the HELL do you mean 'MISSING'?" I had to yell because everyone was screaming and crying. My heart was beating so fast. My dad fell into my arms and said, "She was in a boating accident, and they can't find her body." All the time, just sobbing uncontrollably. Mother was the same way. We all just stood there yelling incomprehensibly. This was just not happening. Audrey and I, still in the foyer of the house, moved into the family room. Dad sat down and tried to explain what happened. We were in shock. He stood up and started looking for his keys, like he was just going to get in the car and go down there like he was. He started saying, "I have to go down there, I have to go down there." It didn't take much pleading, in fact I only said it once. "Dad, you and mom get packed. Audrey and I are going back to our place and pack as well. I will come back and pick you guys up and we will all leave." They easily agreed and Audrey and I went back to our house to pack. The drive back to my house is not easily recalled. The only thing I remember specifically is thinking, "I am going to live the rest of my life as one of those guys who lost his sister. What is that going to make of me?" I didn't know what I was thinking, for some reason I remember that. I guess I am selfish as the first thing I thought of was myself. The one thing I did think of was, "It is on." I knew this was going to be as difficult an experience as we had ever faced, times infinity. I also knew my place in the family was to keep my head on straight and do my best to manage the situation with rational thinking. In other words, there would be time for me to fall apart later. Way later. For now though, I had a job to do for my family. I guess I switched into planning mode. I didn't wonder about the specifics, but I knew there were things I needed to be thinking about as we headed into this ordeal. I almost adopted a sense of thinking in a mind set as if it was already done, and I was looking back on it saying to myself, "I should have done or thought this. What am I going to regret not doing or saying?" From time to time I tested my thoughts by trying to think about her. Should I be thinking about things we did together? Should I be thinking about the day she was born? Should I be thinking about the last time I saw her? Should I be crying? It just didn't feel right to approach that part of myself. There was too much stuff to begin manufacturing a memory lane with her. I did know that time was somewhere in my life, just not right then. The ordeal was all I could think about. Memory lane would produce itself.
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