The Photographs of Me

Mother died over a month ago. It was time to clean out the house. The perfect home in which she and my father had raised six healthy and happy children, now sat empty. I was in the den when I started going through boxes of photographs. I got to a box that was smaller than the other boxes. Upon opening the box I discovered that it contained photographs, of me at about 2 years of age and younger. I turned over the first photo looking for a date and it said Emily Ann. That was not my name. How strange I thought, this must have been a mistake. As I continued to look through the box of photographs every one of them said Emily Ann on the back side in pencil.  Had I been adopted? Suddenly, I panicked thinking that all that I had known was a lie. Father had died thirty years before, so I could not ask him who was Emily Ann.

I grabbed my cell phone and called my older brother Jackson. He was a year older than I was.

“Hello, Jack, it is Susie, please call me back. I am going through mother’s belongings, and I have a question for you. Thank you. Love you.”

I could not stop looking at the photographs. There were at least seventy of them. I laid them all out on the desk in the den.

Being the only child not married I ended up living with my mother as she neared the end of life. It was really to be there so she would not be alone in the large house. I could help with maintenance and repairs so she would not be taken advantage by unscrupulous contractors. It was a blessing that she died peacefully in her sleep. My last years living with her were more of companionship than anything else. She was independent and she was driving up until 90 years of age. She was still driving one week before she passed away. Living with her was an amazing experience as I learned a lot about my dear mother. We were roommates and we had so much fun. Every night was like a slumber party. There were many evenings of eating pizza and ice cream in bed, while watching Law and Order until the wee hours of the morning. I learned my mother could curse and throw back bourbon like a sailor. My mother had been so prim and proper during our childhood. As I got to know her better, in retrospect, I think she was looking forward to all her kids leaving for college and careers so she could be her true self.

She had dated after dad passed away. The signs were everywhere that she was having lots of sex at 60. Sexy underwear would be hanging to dry in the laundry room. She started wearing lots of makeup. Copies of Cosmopolitan magazine, erotica and sex toys were in her bedroom.  She never tried to hide them. She also started going to the gym like she was training for an Olympic event. We could no longer just stop by as she changed all the locks.  If one of us rang the doorbell, because we were in the neighborhood, she would come to the door annoyed, usually in a bathrobe when another car was parked in the driveway. We did have a swimming pool and she could have had her bathing suit under her robe but to whom did the other car in the driveway belong? My older brother Jackson would say she was probably drinking with girlfriends by the pool. He could not bear to think of his mother having a sexual relationship with anyone. 

I never forget when I first heard her use a curse word. She had a doctor’s appointment the week after Thanksgiving. She was about 80 years old, driving me in her Porsche 944 to her appointment. Some guy cut her off and she started yelling; using words I had never heard from her before. Words I did not think she knew.

I moved into the kitchen. I had set up boxes for pots and pans for Goodwill. I had done a Zoom call for each room with my siblings walking them through to look at important items. No one wanted anything in the kitchen so it would all go to Goodwill.

The phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it was Jack.

“Hey Jack, how are you?”

“I am fine Susie, what’s up?”

Typical Jack he did not ask how I was doing.                                                                                                                                       

“I was going through mom’s things and there is one box of photos only of me. But on the back of each picture, it says Emily Ann.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is a box of photographs and on the back of each the name Emily Ann is written. Was I adopted?”

“No.”

“Who is Emily Ann?”

“I do not know. Maybe call Lisa. Since she is much older than us, she might know what this is about.”

“Good idea. But first I might look around a bit more.”

“OK. I will come over tomorrow morning to help you go through stuff. I can be there around 10 AM. Will that work for you?”

“Yes, it will. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I continued with the pots and pans. I filled up six boxes. I did not want to make them too heavy to carry to my car. When I finished, I returned to the den.

I found several more boxes of photographs and albums. In the albums there were photographs of all six of us kids at birthday parties; on camping trips; swimming at the beach and in our pool. The other photo boxes had pictures of my parents when they were children, their siblings, parents, grandparents, and other family members.

I turned on my laptop and Googled Emily Ann Turner. Several entries for Emily Ann Turner came up, including several obituaries. Not surprising for such a common name. Not sure what I thought I would find or what I was looking for. Then I put in my birthdate; at least the date I thought I was born. Why were some of my photographs separate from the other photographs?

I snapped out of the adoption thing as I realized I had seen my birth certificate and I was who I thought I was, and my parents are listed as my birth parents.

I had dinner, watched some television, and then got ready for bed. It was about 10:30 PM and I reached for my phone to call my oldest sister Lisa. She lived on the west coast, and I thought she should just be completing homework with her kids.

“Hello Lisa.”

“Hello Susie.”

“How are you?”

“I am fine. How are you?”

“We just got home from Soccer. Oh God these kids are going to kill me. Running here and there. All the traffic! I hate living here! Thank goodness for drive through dinner.”

“How was the soccer game?”

“You mean soccer games. Both Adam and Chandler had games this evening. Both of their teams lost. Exhausting!”

“Are the fires close to you?” I asked.

“No not really but we can see and smell the smoke. I cannot believe they had a soccer game; the air is horrible right now.”

“I have a quick question for you. I am going through mom’s things, and I found some photographs. I think they are mislabeled, I guess no big deal, but they are photographs of me.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“There are photographs of me, but they say Emily Ann on the back of them.”

“What did you say Susie?”

“The photographs say Emily Ann.”

“Hey, I am really sorry, but I have to go. Fran and Amy are fighting. Talk to you soon,” she said and quickly hung up the phone.

I tried not to read into my sister’s abruptness. As I do not know anything about raising children. Maybe there was a serious fist fight going on.

I went to bed. During the night, the dream I remember is being small and my parents yelling at us to stay away from the pool when they were not outside with us.   Jack and I loved the pool. Lisa our half-sister, always needed money so my parents would have her babysit for us.  Lisa would invite her friends and hang out at the pool, never really watching us. She would fall asleep in the sun, getting a sun burn that would make her so irritable. Lisa is fourteen years older than Jack. She was my mother’s daughter from a previous marriage. The three other younger children were born when Lisa was in college.

After Lisa graduated from high school, she attended college and never came back home to visit. She would meet us at restaurants. I cannot recall her ever staying overnight after she graduated from high school.  While she attended college, holidays were always spent with her biological father’s family.

The next day I got up and went for a jog. When I returned, I prepared brunch so when Jack arrived, he could eat if he wanted. He arrived right at 10 AM.

“Good morning, Jack” I said as I gave him a hug.

“Good morning sis.”

“Are you hungry? I made a quiche and scones if you are.”

“Wow, I would love some coffee and a scone.”

“Excellent.” I said as we walked into the kitchen.

“Wow you got a lot of things packed up in here.”

“Yes, in here. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. Mother had so much stuff!”

“Where should I start?”

“Boxes, tape and markers are in the den. I guess you can start with the books. I would shake each one out before you put them in the boxes. She might have stuff stuck between pages. “

“No problem I will take my coffee and scone into the den. “

“You can put your coffee on the end table. I have photographs on the desk.”

Jack headed into the den.

A few minutes later I heard him yell out, “Hey Susie!”

“Yes,” I said as I walked towards the den holding my coffee.

“Susie, these photos look just like you. What the hell?” he said, as he started turning them over.

“Weird. Very strange,” I said as I walked towards the desk.

“Did you call Lisa.”

“Yes, I did.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. She was very abrupt with me on the phone, she said her kids were fighting and she had to go.”

We began to go through hundreds of books. Shaking each one out carefully. Flipping through random pages and then boxing them up.

I grabbed one of the King James Bibles from a shelf. As I shook it out a card came tumbling out. The kind of card you might get handed at a funeral. One with a photo of the deceased on one side and a prayer on the other side. It fell to the floor prayer side up. I just left it on the floor. I knew it was not for my dad, so I just figured I would get back to it later when I cleaned up.

By about 4:00 PM we were just finishing up boxing linens and towels.

“I am going at 5, OK?” said Jack.

“Sure, no problem, you have been very helpful.”

“What is this?” Jack said, as he felt a metal box in the back of the linen closet.

He pulled down the metal box. Luckily, it was not locked, and he opened it.

“What is in there?” I asked.

“A receipt for cremation services $800 and urn $300,” he answered.

“Maybe mom’s first husband?” I asked.

“Maybe so. Where are the ashes and urn?” said Jack, as he felt around in the dark closet.

“Oh God. Watch the urn is somewhere in this closet, like on the top shelf,” I answered.

“I hope not,” said Jack

“What else is in the box?”

As he unfolded a paper, he read, “Johnson County, Kansas Coroner Death Certificate.”

It was obviously a copy of a copy, so it was a little hard to make out the name of the deceased as it was at the crease of the paper that had been folded for many years. Also, the light was poor by the closet.

He continued, “Cause of death, drowning.”

Our house was in Johnson County, Kansas. Our parents installed an inground pool when they built the house.

“Oh, my goodness, bring that out to the light so we can see it better,” I said.

We walked towards the hall light, and we stood there stunned as we read further. It said, Name of deceased - Emily Ann Turner, 2 years of age, cause of death drowning

We stood there speechless. We had lost a sibling when we were incredibly young and neither one of us could remember this tragedy.

Still looking at the document we read the year. It said 1975. In 1975 I was also two years old, and Jackson was three.

My mother had been a twin and so was my father. It would make sense that my mother would have a high probability of having twins at some point in her life.

“That is why Lisa got off the phone so abruptly. She had to know who Emily Ann was.”  

“Why don’t we remember this?” asked Jack.

“Where are her ashes? I asked.

“We have to call Lisa,” said Jack.

“She might not want to talk with us. Especially if she was babysitting us when Emily Ann drowned.”

“I am calling Lisa,” said Jack.

“Wait let me find the card that fell out of the bible in the den.

What else is in the box?”

“What card?”

“A card fell out of one of the bibles when we were packing up books. One of those laminated cards you get at a funeral,” I said as I bolted down the stairs, leaving Jack with the box.

As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I heard him yell, “Wait. Wait just wait a moment, I have to show you something.”

I would find out shortly that Jack had found the same funeral card in the box that I had found falling out of the King James Bible.

I just kept running into the study. My heart was racing, I was sweating. I picked up the card from the floor. I hesitated to turn it over to see the photograph and the name of the deceased.

I paused and when I did, I heard Jack yell, “Oh my God how could we not remember her?”

I turned it over and there was a photograph of Emily Ann Turner Born April 2, 1973 – Went home on June 17, 1975. I was looking at someone who looked identical to me, with the same birthdate. I had in fact been a twin. I sank to the floor. I heard Jack crying as he entered the den and I sat there staring into space.