Sheryl has a cousin named Laura Jo. Laura Jo's daughter, Alisha, lived in Jerome with her two children, a boy 7 and a girl 3. A week or so ago they disappeared and the community fasted and prayed and searched for them for four days before they were found - in their car - deep in a canal.
I had never attended a triple funeral before, nor even a double one. Closed caskets, of course. Four days under the water is hard on the complexion. The first little blonde baby below is the daughter of Meci whose mom, Julia is another of Sheryl's cousins. By the way, they used only two caskets, because the children were small enough to use only one. After the graveside service, we returned to the chapel for the typical big Mormon lunch. Now, Alisha had been in the process of being divorced from the children's father. I had heard him addressed two times from the pulpit, but I still hadn't spotted him. After we'd been eating for a few minutes, he was pointed out to me. Dirty work boots. Faded Levi's. A Snap up the front cowboy shirt, itself faded and the top two snaps casually undone. And, firmly affixed to his arm, a new young girlfriend. She had a fairly cute face, but her attire was on a par with his.
He looked happy! Not just "handling it" happy, but quite pleased with life. Twice I got up, ostensibly to go to the serving table, but really so I could pass within inches of him and study his face. Jolly. Not a care in the world. Not a single sign of tears in recent days or of a heavy heart that day. OK, so he'd stopped loving his wife, if he'd ever loved her. But he'd also lost two children! If such a thing had happened to me, I'd be a puddle on the floor. But then, I love my kids.
The previous Sunday, Johanna had called me to give me the horrible news that Len's younger brother, Alex, had been killed by a falling tree. His was the most heavily attended funeral I've ever seen. Alex's wife, a statuesque blonde, was clearly heart-broken when I met her, despite her brave efforts to be polite. Their daughters both spoke during the meeting and did an excellent job. I don't know how active Alex had been in the Church, but clearly his greatness of character had influenced his family, friends, and co-workers in vast and positive ways.
Marcus Aurelius, one of the "Five Good Emperors," once said "Tell me with whom thou are found, and I will tell thee who thou art." Hundreds of people clearly felt that to work or play or live with Alex Humphries made them much better people. I recall his driving a long ways to help us when my Jeep quit en route to Joseph & Mary's wedding. He was one of the only men I've ever seen who didn't look silly in a pickup that big. I also recall meeting him when he was in high school and showed up at the elk camp Len and I had already setup. It was snowing heavily
as Alex strolled around through his headlights and stood there, waiting for Len's reaction. Len looked him over. "Moon boots!" he exulted. They were the newest thing back then, and Alex was clearly pleased as punch to have his elder brother's approval.
We've been praying for both these families to have the presence and comfort of the Holy Ghost who is also known as "The Comforter."
So after all this, I thought maybe we'd be given some time to heal up emotionally. But it was not to be. John emailed a bunch of us to tell us that a 40 year old bishop whom John had known as a high school athlete,had been murdered as he sat in his chair in the Bishop's office. Two rounds through the heart for no apparent reason. He leaves a wife and six little boys, one of whom had only recently received his name and blessing. I went in to tell Sheryl about it and found myself crying yet again.
The Gospel is true. It lets us know that we'll see loved ones again, even in the flesh. This is wonderful to know. But it doesn't do much about the protracted pain in our chests right now and for a long time into the future. I remember being surprised every time I walked into a room and no one looked up and stared in horror at the gladius hanging out of my chest after Shayne left. Surely I thought, anything that hurts this much must surely be obvious to everyone. But no. Everyone just saw the same old me and expected the same old performance in everything I did. I don't know about you, but I'm going to increase my knee time. It's the only thing I've ever known to bring real help for a broken heart.
At the 60th anniversary reunion, the Fort Hall PowWow, and even on the street where we used to live, we have found cute people. They delight me. May they have the same effect on you.
2 comments:
You're right, Jim; it's not been a "typical week." And thank goodness for that. I remember back in December of 1988; talking to Sheriff Terry Thompson a couple of weeks after his 21 year old son froze to death, and he told me that his grief was actually physically painful. He said "I didn't know you could hurt so bad and not die." I imagine there's a lot of that going around this week.
Terry Thompson was certainly right. You may have heard me say or seen in my writing the statement that, for a long time after Shayne died, I was always astonished when I walked into a room and the people didn't recoil in horror at the sight of the gladius hanging out of my chest. Yes! It is certainly a physical pain. It isn't just heartbreak, although it's that too. It's an Aztec sacrifice that leaves your heart still beating but in the hand of an enemy. It's a pain that is always there except sometimes when you sleep. Then, when you wake up, it all hits you again like fresh news. And you moan and you cry and you pray. You find yourself praying for silly things like the chance to be "connected" to her so you can tell her again how adored she is. As if the Lord were a telephone operator! And a dozen years later, just when you think you're starting to get a handle on the grief, you'll do something common like opening a car door or stepping into the shower, and it will all come rushing back and you'll stand there sobbing like a child. Yeah, I'm with Terry Thompson.
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