My first experience with death was my Grandpa O who committed suicide after having been tethered to his oxygen tank for a most of his life. He had black lung disease from working in the coal mines and was and still is my absolute favorite person that I have ever known. I know that he has been there with me throughout my life, I know some may not think that is possible since he did take his own life, but I believe God knows us perfectly and He knew my Grandpa's health struggles and pain he lived with day in and day out. I remember this being the first time I sang at a funeral, and I sang "I Come to The Garden"...and I have sung at many funerals since.
In my early teen years I remember going to a lot of funerals of those who did not win their fight with cancer like I had...I always had a hard time going to my friends funerals who had not won their fight, it was a mix of feeling blessed and guilty at the same time.
The hardest funeral I have had to deal with was that of a friend of mine who also committed suicide. I will call her H in this blog from here on out, as I may refer to her often as this story is what brings me the most sadness and which caused me to slide off my rocker for a long time.
I met H when I worked for a local Credit Union in Northern Utah, we sat next to one another and became great friends. She told me all about her crazy life, her daughter M and husband R and some of it I believed. Then, she decided to get a divorce from her husband and I watched her sweet M as she delivered the knews. When she had the house and daughter to herself she started partying to hard and got into trouble with the police and the daughter went back to the Husband. Now H had told me all these horrible things about the husband, and I mostly believed her so I was a little wary when R (husband) called me and asked me to help him with M since he had her all to himself now. I agreed of course, I loved little M...and R made a pretty good case for himself that H had been wrong about him and that H was crazy.
Well... I moved in with R to help him with little M while he and H were still getting a divorce...and H committed suicide. I will never forget that day for as long as I live that I got a phone call that H had shot herself and as I am hearing this I am watching M sleep oblivious in my rear view mirror. I felt like I should have listened to H, and now here I was living in her house watching her daughter M while R was working. H didn't have any family around so R and I planned the funeral with the help of the church. I buried her in pajamas and it haunts me. My brother said the family prayer and my dad dedicated her grave... she didn't even know them.
A relationship grew between R and I after H had committed suicide....but it was not a good relationship. He was very mentally abusive, and then I could see why H committed suicide herself, and then I remembered that she had told me all about him, and I didn't listen.... but It took a lot to walk out of that home because R was so manipulative, and M, well....I loved M and I still do.
This story I just shared has done a lot of damage to my soul. It is hard to share. And those of you that know me that catch me starring off into space....I am most likely thinking about M, and about H.
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| Great- Grandma Reta |
I know that I feel so grateful to know that this life is not the end... I will see my loved ones again...and so can you. I am thankful for families and I am thankful for the gospel which teaches all I need to know to live with those I love again after this mortal death. I am thankful for temples and the work we do in the temples is soooo important. I am thankful to be a part of that work.
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| My dad and his family and Parents...only Grandparents left. |
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