The Worth of a Daughter? Part II

Part I

My mom did a great job at the funeral. There was a viewing in the morning at a funeral home in Bountiful on main street and then a burial in Franklin Idaho. There was no service because my Mom and her Brother could not speak at it and no-one else would. So the night before my mom had me make up memory cards that people could write their memories of Shari on, and we also printed out life histories so people could take and read them at the viewing. I printed out and cut more than 50 of the memory cards, but only four people had memories to write down and they were really weird. Guess that is what happens when you are an mean old cuss.

My Mom has some of the most loyal supportive friends a girl could have. Karen Duke was one of the first people at the funeral, and she is the friend my Mom sent down to the funeral home Halloween night to check on her Mom for her. Cynthia Clegg and her Husband came up from American Fork to support her and let her have a shoulder to cry on. They are both just great and said the nicest things to me about my Mom.

I think my Mom cried at the viewing just because of the neighbors and church people that helped her so much as a youth. They were the people that lived in the houses thats doors she would run down the street pounding on when she was trying to get help to stop her parents knock out drag out fights. One neighbor didn't say much, but what she did say meant a lot to my Mom. The little white haired lady is blind now and got right up in my Mom's face holding it, and said "I know". It was just the acknowledgment that someone remembered how bad things were too, that touched my Mom. The other thing that really got the tears flowing even for me was when my Mom's mia-maide teacher showed up. She did not even know if my Mom was active and my Mom shared with me that she was a really big reason why she stayed so active during her child-hood. I just had to hug this little lady that made such a big impact for my Mom and our family. So next time you think your church calling is not important you can remember that it was a mia-maide teacher that made the difference in my Mom's life changing the course of her future.

Then in the middle of the viewing her brother that she has not seen since she was my age came. Now mind you we have been feed some crazy things about him from my Mom's mom over the years. She has told us he is in mental institutions, running from drug-lords in SLC, you name it.So when he showed up and was a cute little man in a nice suit we were pleasantly surprised. He shacked our hands and said hi, but I could tell he was standoffish and unsure of what to do. So I told him that I remembered him, and he got this shocked look on his face and said "you do?" I told him that as a little girl I remember saying goodbye to him at his dad's funeral. After I said that he just reached out and hugged me. You could tell it really touched him that somebody remembered him. It was sadly obvious too that their mom had successfully isolated them from one-another leaving them all alone to go their separate ways, with no chance of reconciling with each other. We learned that he has been out of a job for awhile and is having a hard time finding employment, that he is living with a couple over in the ward boundaries of our old ward over in Holladay were we lived within a minute from him for three years. Realizing his situation made us even more upset about their mom giving them nothing, because Kenidy could have used the house and the money to finally have a fair shot at life. He too seems like he has done better than where he came from, but possibly has typical problems from being a product of that kind of up-bringing.

My mom asked him why he thinks he was in trouble with their mom and he told the saddest story of why. He said that the only thing he can think of was this story that his mom has guilted and punished him for his whole life:

When he was two years old my Mom and him got the measles and at the same time their dad got sick. So the Mom took both of them up to their aunts house (the cousin who got every-things mom) to stay until they were better. A month or so later when she came to pick them up she called Kenidy to come to her and instead of running to his mom he ran to the aunt and grabbed her leg. His mom has never forgiven him for that and has used that story his whole life to tell him how selfish and ungrateful he is.

My mom herself can remember things she did when she was three that her mother never let her forget. If that is not the saddest story, I do not know what is. I just do not know what these poor kids could have done that was worth abandoning them their whole adult lives, or making them feel miserable about themselves. The fact that their mom too had one last jab to send their way and that someone is willing to carry it out is beyond my comprehension.

I hope that we can get to know Kenidy more and that he can know that he does have family that he can call in times of need. He needs to have a number in his back pocket and it needs to be his sisters. Kenidy left the viewing early. You can tell he is really lost and insecure. He also said that he did not know how to come to the funeral and represent his mother as her son if she never wanted him to be her son in the first place.

After the viewing we made the two hour drive to Franklin to the small old cemetery there. Just about everyone buried there is an ancestor of my Mom's in some way or another. It is a really picture perfect place. The whole town as you drive up on it is flat with farm land and gold colored fields and then to the left of town there is a small thick grove of trees that holds the cemetery in the middle of it. My dad dedicated the grave and a couple people shared odd memories of Shari and then we were done. My Mom mingled awhile and I took pictures of some of the old grave sights for her. We just let Jayna run around the cemetery, and there was another little girl there that she played with too.

Call me weird but since the day I started getting into photography back in high-school my favorite or ideal place I would like to take pictures would be a cemetery. I just think they hold such history and have the most interesting energy in them. I love it. Like I said though I am weird. Ryan hates anything about old people or death.

So everything is done with though, but I think my parents are going to look into contesting the will. In-fact they have not even seen a copy of it yet which is crazy. So If that cousin thinks she is withholding money from two adults that don't need or deserve it she is wrong.

She is withholding it from two poor kids.

One that was a survivor and ran down the street and sought out refuge in others, and one that was a victim and shut himself up in his room writing poems and listening to load music to drown it all out.