And a saga it truly has been …

There has been a lot going on - some of which I shared with you, some of which I haven’t, but many of you are aware of anyway … and some that I’ve kept rather private …

The last time I gave everyone a real update was at the end of August when I ended up in the hospital. On September 23, I told you that there was a lot going on, and that once it was over, “I may have a real good story for you,” but that for the time being, I needed “to be a good little Moofie and keep a low profile.”

Well … here’s the promised story - plus some, since things didn’t end there. I’m probably going to have to write all of this out in several installments. Let me pick up where I left off …

Once upon a time there was a little Moofie …

… who really hated to have to leave her nice summer camp, and travel home for any reason whatsoever.

However, on Friday, September 7, about a week after my discharge from the hospital, I had to make a run home to get some lab work done. Whenever I have to go home from camp, I almost always make a day of it. If Dougie, my chef son, isn’t working, he and I will travel together, and pick up my Mother-in-law for a threesome. We then take care of whatever business is at hand, and once the duty is done, we treat ourselves to dinner in a restaurant. Home is only a minute or two from my Mother-in-law’s house, and I decided to stop there quickly to see if there were any phone messages to deal with, or mail to pick up. I was surprised to see a calling card balanced on the doorknob, and a bit wary when I saw it was from a detective from the local police department.

My first thought was: “Oh geeze! Darian’s in trouble again.” My oldest son has a long history of friction with the local police. They’ve nicknamed the “curbside lawyer,” and he’s nicknamed them … um, *cough* … never mind. I entered the house, and promptly called the police station to inquire about the card. They told me that there was a court date on the following Monday, and they wanted to deliver a summons. Darian’s apartment had been broken into, and many of his belongings destroyed earlier in the year; he was supposed to testify against the perpetrators. I assured the officer that I would give Darian the message before heading back up to camp.

I immediately went out to the barn. Yes, my son really did live in a barn. He’d made a little apartment for himself in the back of the barn, bought a furnace, a small fridge, and had things set up quite comfortably back there. During the winter, he was warmer in the barn than we were in the house. There was a big enclosed bay for working on his cars which was separate from his living room and bedroom, and a huge field just outside the back door, which was perfect for big loud parties with huge bonfires. His place was normally busier than Grand Central Station.

This time, it was ominously quiet … and empty. The door to his private area was wide open … and not a soul was in sight. Odd. Darian has a rather crippling case of paranoia; of course, he would be quick to tell you that it’s not paranoia, and that he has good reasons to think the way he does; to be sure, where some issues are concerned, he’s right. But, suffice it to say that he’s not one to run off and leave the door to his apartment wide open. I called out to him from the entry, but there was no answer. I made a mental note that he had the barn lights on although it was daytime, and felt irritation at his lack of concern for the cost of electricity.

Thinking that he might be in the apartment area asleep, I ventured into the work area … trying hard to not trip over the tools and the rest of the amazing mess which was scattered from one end to the other. He’d never been neat; in fact, my last communication with him had been a rather angry note left on what I could still find of the kitchen table, telling him to pick up his mess in the house. This was another story, however! It looked as if a compression bomb had gone off in there! I went into his “living room,” and saw that it had been ransacked … as was his bedroom. I shook my head in disbelief, and wondered what sort of party he’d had in there. It looked as if a pack of marauders had given the place a thorough going-over. Darian was nowhere to be found.

I returned to the house to write him a message, and then went back to thumbtack it to the open door. As I was doing that, I heard a car pull up to the front of the barn. Relieved, I called out his name - but a different voice than the one I was expecting hollered in reply. Darian’s good friend, Ryan, came through the barn’s large front doors, and made his way toward me with long strides. The conversation that ensued didn’t answer many questions … in fact, it only served to pile on more. Darian had made plans to meet Ryan there the night before, but hadn’t been there when Ryan showed up. The circumstances Ryan related were odd …

Darian had been working on Ryan’s truck, which sits in our yard to this day. Darian called Ryan from a store, and told him that he was in the process of picking up a brake cable, and asked Ryan to bring the brake fluid. They were supposed to meet at the barn at 10 PM. When Ryan got out of work, he went to the barn with the brake fluid, but there was no Darian … everything was wide open, things were upside down … just like it was when I saw it.

A sick, queasy feeling started rolling around in the pit of my stomach. As Ryan and I made our way out of the barn, he told me: “Don’t worry! Wherever Darian is, I’m sure it’s not a bad place.”

I replied: “Ryan, with the way Darian lives, that ‘bad place’ could happen any time.” Ryan’s eyebrows flew up, as he nodded in acknowledgment. To call Darian a risk taker … is to be mortally guilty of understatement.

We locked up the house, picked up my Mother-in-law, and ran our errands. After a nice dinner, and an otherwise pleasant afternoon, we ran back by the house to see if Darian had shown back up. Nope.

At that point, Dougie and I decided that we couldn’t leave the barn wide open, with all of the lights on. We went out there together, and started turning off the lights, as we gingerly picked our way through the disaster. As Dougie was shutting down Darian’s computer, I checked out a small box which was sitting on his bed, hoping to perhaps find a clue as to where he was. In the box was fresh food - a hamburger patty, several pieces of pie - the type you find in fancy restaurants, a loaf of bread, and a number of other ready to eat goodies. The hamburger patty was the only food item that needed cooking. It looked as if he’d brought the food in, left it on the bed, and never had a chance to eat it - or store it, although he had a little fridge in the very next room.

Fresh food on the bed, computer still running, all the lights on in the middle of the day, doors wide open … and missing an appointment he himself had made with Ryan the night before … something was wrong … badly wrong.

Fighting panic, I went back into the house and called the police. I asked if they had any information about Darian that I wouldn’t have known about (they didn’t,) and told them what I had found.

Did I want to report him as missing? No … not yet. I decided that I would wait until Monday. If he didn’t show up at court - a court we were all pretty sure he wanted to be present at - then that’s when I would report him missing.

We had a very busy week end. My childhood friend, Joanie, along with her Mum, came to spend the week end with me. Our original get together had been planned for the last week end of August, but on that Friday, Joanie had ended up in the emergency room, and had been admitted with a question of heart problems. On that Sunday morning, after a horrible night, I had been admitted through the emergency room for my own little problem. It was just one those things: our get together wasn’t meant to happen on that week end. We were both pretty wary of setting a new date, but our September 8 & 9 meeting worked out fine. On Sunday, my son, Daughter-in-law, and brand new grandbaby also came to visit … as did my Mother-in-law. It was wonderful to have them all there.

However, I couldn’t get my missing son out of my mind. A feeling of dread had settled on me like a layer of ash, dampening the joy of our little get together.

And that’s it for this installment. In the next day or so, I’ll pick up from here, and continue …

Here are some photos taken on September 9:

Posted: Saturday, December 15th, 2007 at 12:03 am under: General Mayhem, Gritches & Groans, Family & Friends. Comment Feed (RSS 2.0). Interact: Comment or Trackback.