Remembering Mary Jane

By Tamara Jane Owens

This is a simple story of the celebration of the life, the peaceful promise, and the lasting legacy of my dear grandmother Mary Jane, who taught without words that you cant put reins on a wandering spirit.

An ambitious first novel [as rich in retrospection as it is in introspection] that serves as both a how-to guide for all those struggling to come to terms with their own shortcomings, and an arduous journey down the most difficult path of all: the path to ones self. This heartfelt personal narrative is a catalyst for change and an instrument of peace; but above all, it reminds us that love is boundless, even in the face of death.
Jeremy Weimer, writer, poet, author of Plea

Remembering Mary Jane represents a wonderful tribute to God, families, and life. While the author tells the reader that she is not writing the great American novel, she takes the reader through a series of memories that will make one laugh and cry. These memories include life lessons for learning empathy in the purest sense. From Thanksmas to a funeral, the experiences of this family show love, care, compassion, and Gods presence. A book you will be glad you read!
Dr. Eugenia Badger, Indiana University, author of Metaphors, Beliefs, and Sayings About the Day of the Dead: A Cross-Cultural Comparison

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456746346

Tamara Jane Owens

Tamara Owens earned her bachelor’s degree in Communication Studies from Indiana University in 2007. She now resides in Greenwood, Indiana, and is currently a graduate student at Indiana University studying health and rehabilitation sciences. Her hobbies include writing, snowboarding, photography, and creating unforgettable memories with friends and family. A portion of all the proceeds from this book goes to benefit to American Heart Association. Thank you for your generosity. I know my grandmother does.

Book preview

Contents

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

Epilogue

Recollections

We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, as to accept the life that has been waiting on us. -Anonymous

Dan, Jared, Erica and Miah: You will never know the worth of your friendship, and how it has empowered me.

Mom: This is also for you, because you have never strayed from demonstrating Christ’s love for His children and having faith in me- even when I could find none in myself.

Marie: For believing in me, and telling me I was right- even when we both knew I was wrong.

Dad: I have never left, nor have I ever stopped loving you.

Mary Jane: Thank you being an example of true compassion, and living a life full of love for others.

Much gratitude to the members of Third Day.

Your melody is surely music to God’s ears.

…..and thanks be to God, author of salvation.

Remembering

Mary Jane

Prologue

I didn’t have a plan.

And as a matter of fact, I never do. But this wasn’t exactly something I saw coming.

You see, I never intended to do this. I never predicted how it would progress, how it would affect me, or even imagined how it would end. But I’ve always said that the best things in life are the ones that surprise you and give you something you never knew you needed. I guess you could say that this turned out to be one of those things.

For clarification, this novel is characterized as fiction, but not because it is fiction entirely. If I had to estimate, I’d say it’s seventy-five percent true, twenty-five percent bullshit (simply for entertainment purposes). However, for literary legality, I was forced to insert the previous statement against my will. To be honest with you, I really just don’t want to get sued.

I guess that’s enough with the technicalities. Please note that what you are about to read was not at all easy for me to write, and you will see why after you read the story in its entirety. At points, it was even deplorable. Please do not start reading this book without the intention of finishing it. My family disputed vicariously on whether or not I should even publish this book, and although I spent countless nights meditating on the same thing, I was stubborn and put up a fight. And guess who won.

You should also know that when I began this process, I was at, quite frankly, the lowest point of my life. I will not go into detail now (it will come later), but every now and then, you begin to question things. Big things. Those things began to control me, and I became a different person- one that I was not particularly fond of. One that I swore I would never become.

The processes I went through during the course of writing this book changed my life dramatically- and for the better. The memories and recollections you’re about to read have given me the courage to go on and face the most uncertain circumstances without contest.

I can guarantee you that this is unlike any book you will probably ever read. It wasn’t meant to be the great American novel, by any means. It certainly won’t be as well- written, and hell, half of it didn’t even make sense to me as I was writing it. However, I can promise you one undeniable thing- it is so sincere in its purpose. Of course I want you to get something out of reading this, but I didn’t do this for you. I did it for her. Because she deserves it.

I’ve been told that certain people come into your life for very particular reasons. Not all of them stay, but all of them serve a purpose. I often think about the people I wish I had never met, but then I pause and recall this saying and realize how selfish that sounds, and how I did indeed learn something from them, whether I wanted to or not. And then again, some of those people learn from you. But most importantly, I believe that everyone you cross paths with in life is meant to change you somehow. My grandmother, among others, was certainly one of those people.

I want to thank my family for being so different. I want to thank you for your imperfections, your honesty, your giving hearts, and most of all- the endless compassion you continue to show toward one another. The obstacles we have overcome astound me every day. We are certainly not the most polished family, but that is what makes us rare.

Every once in awhile, we are fortunate enough to meet someone who leaves a lasting impression on us- and we are never the same.

Finally, I do not think of myself as a writer, but just as someone who wants to share a beautiful story of a life well lived.

Here goes.

1   

I’ve always said that I’d freak out if I ever found a dead body. Probably just fall over dead myself. Not that I haven’t seen a dead body before or know what the body goes through during its final stages. I learned all of that in my undergraduate studies. Rigor mortis. No, I’m talking about literally stumbling onto a dead body when you least expect it. Oddly enough, it wasn’t as dramatic as I had always played it out in my head. Disappointing, really. Not that I wanted it to be a fun experience; I just thought it would be different- like a cool story I could tell my friends one day. I’ll never forget my high school pal, Jared, and his terrifying account of discovering a corpse while he wasdriving his Jeep around in the fields. I inevitably freaked out just from hearing his story.

But like I said- it wasn’t how she died that startled me- it was how I found her. Bizarre would be quite the understatement. And I wasn’t quite ready for it.

Yep. Already getting ahead of myself.

I guess I should start from the beginning. The day everything changed was a cool, breezy, spring day- you know- the kind that actually motivates normal people to do something. My laziness had consumed me, and I hadn’t been running (and by running, I mean an embarrassing version of a jog) in quite some time. It had been a good five years and some healthy cellulite later since I had decided to get back into shape. Besides that, this also seemed like the ideal opportunity for Mary Jane to fix me some brunch.

This was a typical day, in retrospect. My grandpa was at the coffee shop with all of his navy retiree buddies, and Mary Jane was home and was supposed to be fixing me brunch. Pancakes. I called ahead, you see. I call, she cooks, I go running for a bit, and when I return, we pig out. That’s how it works. That’s how it has worked for the past ten years.

Only motivated by brunch, I dragged my sweaty, tired body up the driveway of that little Bedford stone house that was so familiar to me. Unfortunately, my grandparents, as well as the quaint house, had slowly been deteriorating over the last few years. Heart surgeries, hip replacements, stents, pacemakers. The esthetics of the place were in declination as well. Grandpa would’ve been on top of every possible home improvement a few years ago, but not anymore. Time passes too quickly. God, please let me die before I reach the age of sixty, I pleaded to myself. I never wanted to imagine myself as an old lady full of wrinkles and varicose veins, clipping coupons. I shuddered at the image in my head. No way.

Pancakes, Tamara. Stop getting distracted.

I made my way up the front porch steps, and for once in my life I actually stopped and looked around. Six concrete frogs lined the entryway, each one uglier than the last. What in the hell would someone want with six concrete frogs? None of them were even semi-attractive to look at, and they all seemed to glare at me every time I made my way up the steps. Stupid frogs. I remember the first one- she won it at bingo, and then I guess people thought she liked that kind of tacky paraphernalia, so they just started buying it for her, and she was just too nice to just say, No, thanks. But that’s my Mary Jane for you.

Mary Jane! I’m a little late but I had to stop for real syrup because I can’t eat that sugar-free crap. You know this! I spouted, as I barged through the front door. "And please tell me you have peanut butter this time. Last time I had to eat dry pancakes with butter. Do