Thursday, May 4, 2023

Network of Angels

 “Could she be The 1990 Bronx Jane doe?”  A question that ended up providing an answer to a question my family had been asking for over 30 years, what happened to my mother?

Over the last 30 years, I have often been asked about my mother.  What happened to her?  Has anyone seen her?  My answers varied but always included, “she disappeared and no one knows,” “she’s like Elvis and there have been sightings over the years,” “I really don’t know,”  Inevitably, the next question would be, “have you ever looked for her?”  That answer was easy, no.  I had never looked for my mom in earnest.  I would the occasional Facebook or Spokeo search but never really looked for her.  Initially, I was angry with her and figured, she was living her life and I would live mine.  When I realized that she may be deceased, I didn’t want to know the answer.  It was like Schrödinger’s cat; she was both alive and deceased as long as there was no confirmation.

One of these conversations took place on March 18th with my sister and a close group of friends.   It’s funny, even though I had been friends with these ladies for well over 10 years, some close to 30 years, we had never really talked about my mom.  I tend to be an open book but if the topic or questions dont come up, I don’t volunteer the information.  The conversation naturally shifted to other topics throughout the night and that was that.  Or so I thought.  

A few days later, as I was scrolling through Facebook, I decided to post a picture of my mom and a small blurb in the “Missing people of NYC” group.  I reached out to my sister and asked if she thought it was a good idea and she agreed.  I didn’t think anything would come of it.  Figured people would look at her picture and if they didn’t recognize her, keep scrolling.   I sent Brenda the pictures I intended to post, along with the blurb and after I got the ok, pressed, “Post.”

Within an hour of posting, one of the admins of the groups, reached out and began asking questions about my mom.  Where had we seen her last?  Was there a NAMUS case? Had we filed a missing person’s report?  Have we provided the Medical Examiner’s office with our DNA to match against possible Jane Does?  It was a little overwhelming but I was touched that she had taken an interest and given so many good leads about how to start the search.  She also offered to create a missing poster to aide in the search.

Not long after that, multiple people were commenting on the post trying to assist in the search.  I mean people were actively doing their own searches on the internet to help.  I couldn’t believe that so many people were spending their time to help someone whom they had no connection to. Eventually someone commented,  “Could she be The 1990 Bronx Jane doe?”   I had no idea who this Jane Doe was and asked for additional information.   An article, published in ourBlackgirls.com, was forwarded to me.   The article contained a picture taken in the morgue of the Jane Doe and the particulars of the case. 

At first, I didn’t think the Jane Doe looked like my mom but I couldn’t deny that she looked like she could be related.  As I stared at the picture, I conceded that it there could be a match.  This factored with when she was found, May 2, 1990, the same timeframe she went missing and the location, Claremont Park, near Webster Ave, where she was living, all pointed to this being my mom.  I reached out to my sister, who agreed that this could be our mother and we started making calls to see about an identification. 

I was flabbergasted that I not only possibly had an answer so quickly after posting about my mother but I was also incredibly grateful that so many people were trying to assist.  People were not only commenting on the post but sharing it as well.  There were also those reaching out to me individually offering their assistance.  When I thanked the original person who asked if she could be the Jane Doe, she mentioned that she been working her case and recognized her based on the pics.  She then stated that she finds John and Jane Does.  I had someone else reach out and offer to assist with the case.  When I explained to this person that I felt the Jane Doe was in fact my mother, she agreed and confirmed that this Jane Doe’s case had been around for awhile.  I had another person reach out and offer to create another missing poster and get the word out.  What?  Who were these people?  How did I not know of their existence? 

These are individuals and small groups who look for unidentified and unclaimed people in an effort to give them their identity and provide answers for the families.  It was comforting that someone was trying to help my mother during the time when we, as her family, were unable to.  Websites like ourblackgirls.com posts articles about these Jane Does to put the faces and stories out there.  The deceased are people who had families and deserve to be identified and brought home.  

One week after my initial post, we received confirmation that yes, Neida Monge, was in fact The 1990 Bronx Jane Doe.  After 33 years, this Jane Doe was identified and Neida Monge was brought back into the light.  When I share the news about my mom with others, the same question always comes up, what made you post in that group?  The truth is that I don’t know what inspired me to post on that day.  I had been a member of that Facebook group since December 2021 and had never thought to post before.  In fact, I joined that group to help another friend out.  But something in me knew to post on that day. 

I will forever be grateful to the site, ourblackgirls.com, for posting the article about the Jane Doe.  That article was shared repeatedly and became known in the network of people who search for missing loved ones.   If it weren’t for the article and members of the Facebook group, I don’t know how long it would have taken us to find answers.    They are a network of angels doing amazing work.  

As always, thank you for reading and take care.

Tuesday, May 2, 2023

Dear Mami,

Mom, Mami, Mommy, Ma… so many ways to address the woman who birthed me and they all sound foreign.  I guess after 33 years of just seeing her in my head or referring to her as simply my mom, it makes sense that I would be lost as to what to call her.  The last time I saw or interacted with my mom, I was 10 years old.  While more than 3 decades have passed, part of me still feels like that 10 year old.  I’ve decided to address her as Mami and keep calling her that until it becomes “normal.”  

Dear Mami,

May has always been a month where you have been at the center of my mind.  Not only is Mother’s Day in May but your birthday also falls in May, around the Same time.  A month and a half ago, we found out that your life also ended in May, adding another day of significance during this month.  

33 years ago today, you were violently snatched from this world.  Taken from your kids, who so desperately loved you and needed you.  First we were removed from your care in March and then you were removed from our life permanently, 2 months later.  I will be honest that I am still a little numb from the news.  Heartbroken because I will never get to see you or talk to you in person.  I am sad that because back then we didn’t have a video camera, I will never hear your voice.  I am even sadder that I don’t recall your voice.  The only sound I remember clearly is your whistle.  I can’t imitate it but i can hear it clearly in my head.   The whistle that meant Mami is home.  So much joy to have you home.  You were the center of our life and having you around meant the world. 

As much as I wish I would have known what happened to you sooner, I am glad that I didn’t know of your death 33 years ago.  Living with Grandma was not a picnic and only the hope of you rescuing me kept me going.  I am devastated that the hope has been extinguished but I am far more prepared to deal with it as an adult than as a 10 year old kid.  Back then, it would have negatively impacted me and I honestly don’t know if I would be here today.  How do you keep going when all hope is gone? Maybe your spirit kept me from knowing to protect me.  Maybe you have been guiding me all along. 

I am sorry that I ever thought or assumed you would abandon us.  I never doubted that you loved us.  That’s why I was so incredulous that you would just disappear.  How could you not come back?  Knowing how horrible living with her was, how could you leave us there?  But looking back, I realize it was easier to get mad than to honestly consider that maybe you couldn’t come back.  Someone had made sure of that. 

As I sit here today, on the 33rd anniversary of your death but the 1st one since we found out, I am filled with sadness, longing, anger and so many other emotions.  But most importantly, I am filled with love for you.  I hope you realize what an impression you left on your youngest child.  Your fierce love and light have not been forgotten.  Even in the midst of the angriest I’ve ever been, my love for you far outweighed any negative feeling.  I remember you and your energy.    I find myself thinking back on the good memories.  Bringing up some story or advice you gave.  It’s comforting to to think of the good times and remember the smile that we all inherited from you.    

While you have never been forgotten, you were kept in the dark.  The thought of you was filled with pain and hope.  Maybe we would see you again.  Now that we know  what happened, the pain is still there but the hope is gone.  The hope may have been extinguished but you were also set free.  You were given your name.  We can talk about you and remember you and honor you.  All of these years since I last saw you in that hallway, I was measuring time until I saw you again.  I always envisioned a reunion where I would fill you in on all of the milestones you missed.  Now, I often talk to you in my head.  I haven’t started reminiscing yet but I will get there.  You will never be kept away like a little secret again.  I love you ❤️ ❤️.

Love,
Millie