UNCLAIMED REMAINS

In this family memoir, a man excavates the mysteries surrounding his sister’s death.

When LeCompte was only 6, his 11-year-old sister, Louisa, died in the midst of an asthma attack. Her last words were, oddly, “You all hate me.” Stranger still was how the author’s family reacted: “As shocking as her death was, my family never went through the ritual of mourning. There was no funeral, no memorial service, no obituary, no headstone or marker. We went on as if nothing had happened. We never talked about Louisa.” It was only as an adult that LeCompte began to wonder about this lacuna in his family history. The chance to learn the specifics—including, first and foremost, what was done with Louisa’s body—came while caring for his mother, Janet, who had Alzheimer’s disease. He discovered the woman’s diaries. Kept by Janet from the ages of 13 to 81, the diaries documented the full breadth of her inner life. She continued writing even after the disease had eroded her ability to read and speak. Two things about the diaries immediately struck the author. The first was the omissions, including the time LeCompte, at 4 or 5, drank a whole bottle of cough syrup and nearly died. The second was Janet’s extreme anger—at her alcoholic father, her taciturn husband, her seven children (two of whom died in childhood), and, most of all, herself. While the author made his way through his mother’s diaries in order to figure out what happened to Louisa, he was treated to greater insights into Janet via her doctors, one of whom suggested she might have had bipolar disorder for most of her life. As LeCompte got closer to the real story of Louisa’s life and death, a clearer picture not only of her, but also of his entire family came into troubling focus.

The author writes in measured, thoughtful prose, taking his time with each new piece of information. But much of the best writing in the book is found in quotations from Janet’s diaries, which are stark, declarative, and unexpectedly poignant. “She might have lived longer and more comfortably if I had been a better mother,” Janet wrote shortly after Louisa’s death, “but I am not a better mother. I did not appreciate her. Often I did not love her or even like her. I didn't want her around much of the time. She would say ‘Oh, stay’ and I would go.” While the mystery surrounding Louisa serves as the volume’s engine, LeCompte (and readers) quickly becomes more invested in the even greater enigma of Janet, whose diaries provided a welcome window into a consciousness rendered otherwise inaccessible by Alzheimer’s. This is a short, well-paced memoir that deftly presents its material, including a few surprise discoveries that complicated the author’s understanding of the past. Readers who have lost family members to any sort of malady, or whose parents were tight-lipped when it came to expressing their feelings, will find something relatable in this work of family history.

A concise and engaging account that explores a family’s secrets.