I recently attended a memorial service for an ex-Mormon friend of mine who passed away a few days ago.

I had known him for several years. He was born into a local Mormon family, served a full-time LDS mission, was married in the Mormon temple, raised a large family in the faith, served as a bishop in an area LDS ward close to where I lived--and eventually got divorced, with a main reason being that he came to realize that Mormonism was not true, while his wife remained a steadfast true-believer. He loved his children and continued a close relationship with them, but vowed never to get married again.

He and I visited on and off during the ensuing years, with him often calling me at work to express his views on various topics of the day (religious and non-religious alike). He was bright, perceptive, sensitive and direct--a person of outspoken honesty and conviction. He did not tolerate injustice or deception and spoke his mind unhesitatingly.

He was a lawyer by profession. When I left the Mormon Church, I was faced with some ugly, false rumors about my supposed reasons for leaving Mormonism that were being bandied about by an unhinged TBM. My ex-Mormon friend contacted the accuser and persuaded him to publicly retract his claims, under threat of legal action if he did not. The TBM did so reluctantly, but nonetheless attempted to justify his false accusations by saying he did not appreciate my editorial cartoons criticizing eventually impeached and convicted Mormon Arizona governor Evan Mecham. (Say what?) It was good to have my ex-bishop, ex-Mormon, practicing-attorney friend around.

Anyway, attending the memorial service for my friend were many of his LDS family members and acquaintances. Several of the Mormon men who came to the Saturday memorial service were dressed in typical Sunday suits and ties. Also typically, women managed the buffet table. People mingled around, visiting the food and sitting on folding chairs chatting among themselves.

While they were doing so, a slide show was displaying large photographs of my friend's life, cast on two opposite, wide walls in the room where the memorial was being held (inside a city public building next to the municipal library).

From what I could observe, few if any people were paying meaningful attention to the slide show of my friend's journey as it was being displayed up on those walls. Instead, as I concentrated on watching the personal photographs of my friend's life from his infant days up through his later years, I could hear the Mormons present in the room talking about the expanding number of stakes in their areas, who was serving or had served in what Mormon missions and how their businesses were doing in a tough economy.

In the meantime, my friend's life was being flashed before their unfocused eyes and into their unlistening ears. Sadly, as well, there was no clear indication in the slide show's carefully edited presentation that my friend had actually left the Mormon Church. Indeed, it displayed his Church ordination records and the farewell announcement of his mission call as a young man, along with the newspaper announcement of his temple wedding and reference to him having been a bishop. Looking at it from a neutral vantage point, one would have thought he had been born and had died a faithful Mormon.

That not-unexpected deceptive presentation, combined with the visitors' oblivious inattention, disappointed me. I left after about 45 minutes, recalling for what was to be an eventually-compiled guest book some short, positive memories and thoughts about my good friend.

As I was exiting, one of his children spotted me and came over to say hello. We chatted quietly outside the building for a few minutes, where he told me that he was not a practicing Mormon and that what he and I were witnessing in that room were Mormons caught up in their own little world, absorbed in the limited views and experiences of their Mormon lives--the only thing, he said, that they could relate to. I asked him how he was doing in the wake of his father's loss and he said that this was the hardest day so far. I found out that we had served in the same overseas mission (years apart), so we chatted briefly in the native tongue. He took down my email address and we agreed to get together in the future.

He looked, sounded and acted like his father.

I was happy to leave with a living memory of my friend.



Edited 17 time(s). Last edit at 03/28/2011 11:58AM by steve benson.

I'm very sorry about the loss of your friend. Maybe the connection with a member of his family will help, as you said, to have a comforting living memory of your friend.

So sorry about the loss of your friend, Steve. It was good of you to go to his service. I'd forgotten how absorbed in the church the members really are. I'm happy for your friend's son and wish him well.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/27/2011 04:34PM by freegirl10.

I doubt I knew your friend, but the type of person you describe him as, I'm sure he would have cherished your thoughtful words.

But I like the idea that you picked up another generation of that friend. Mormons come and go but a good friend will always be with you in memory.

It reminds me of when I was at my father's wake as a young girl. I was standing alongside my brother as we were receiving our visitors.

Numb with grief, that's when I first realized how disconnected most people are at events meant to honor the dead and to comfort the family. People mean well, and they say appropriate things, but then they go about their business. I remember watching people chat and gossip quietly about unrelated things, much as you did, with a sense of wonderment and disbelief. They were in their own little world, and it wasn't the world that I happened to be inhabiting. Maybe that's normal, maybe that's the way of things. But it was very jarring to me at the time.

Then one of my dad's longtime friends came up to me, someone that my dad hadn't seen in years. I didn't even know the man. But he took one look at me and his eyes filled with tears. He told me that I look just like my dad, and he enveloped me in a big bear hug. He told me how sorry he was that my dad had died. Out of all the people who came to that wake, in my eyes, he was the only one who "got it."

So I think that you made a difference to your friend's son in much the same way that my dad's friend did to me. Because you were the one who genuinely understood and shared his grief.

but I'm glad that you connected with his son and that you got to leave with a living memory of your friend.

And without a doubt that son was glad that you were there remembering his dad.

My take on the reaction of those present is that they just cannot handle having their world rocked. In my experience, Mormons tend to be both emotionally immature and selfish (which go hand in hand). The only way they could deal is the pretend like his exit never happened. I am just glad that neither you nor your friend lived in this persistent state of denial. And I am also glad that you could share a moment of sanity and reality with his kiddo.

Thanks for sharing this. Peace to you!

Those people in there, disrespectfully chatting away during the remembrances of his life, weren't his friends nor did they really care about him. He was fortunate to have you for a friend.

TG

That was beautifully written. I also have no doubt your friend's family noticed that you were on of the few people showing respectful interest in the photos of their father's life. What colossal rudeness on the part of those who were chatting.

i would have thought , from a nonmromon view... that it was very rude of people not to at least pretend to be aware and observe your friende transitions thru life!!( the slides and such).... are children a way to be "imortal"? i guess it could be argued as such!! hears to your bonding with your friends "reincarnation"! :)

When I needed help in my life, they focused on prayer or people allegedly being punished in the hereafter for what they did to me, but most ignored my very real human needs and suffering.

I am sorry you have lost a friend. I have never had an LD$ funeral inflicted on me, but have often grieved alone.

Old photographs, and remembering people’s lives fascinates me. Sometimes I research people I do not know. It is sad that through neglect, people's lives are regularly forgotten, sometimes obliterated. Even in death LD$ want lives to fit to their script. They want the journals with tales of sacrifice, and they want the saintly image, so even if they remember, they edit away part of a person's humanity.

This story made me cry. I visited my grandfather when he was 94, and he would not talk about Russia much, but gladly told me about his life. He made sure I knew he was a year older than all the records stated, and told me about Arthur, my mother’s eldest brother, who died as a baby during the influenza epidemic in 1918. He showed me photographs, and took me out to visit my grandmother’s grave again. He visited her grave regularly to pull weeds, bring flowers, and remember her. While I was visiting, my cousin Jackie stopped by to say hi. She was visiting my Uncle Leopold, who lived next door, and she was my aunt, and uncle’s only child.

My dad said that my mother had had, and given up a child before she was married. This would have been in the late 50’s or early 60’s. My dad always thought the baby was Jacqueline, because of her resemblance to my older brother - they looked like siblings, and, because of the way my mom treated her. She was the only niece of hers she took a lot of photographs of. She wrote funny captions under her photographs like she did on ours. My aunt is getting very old, and I do not have the nerve to ask her.

Anyhow, for living memories, when Jackie walked into the living room, I started to get upset, and tried very hard not to cry. Eventually my grandfather began to get agitated, because I was getting upset. She was the perfect image of my mom. Not just her looks, but her hairstyle, hair color, voice, clothing choices, mannerisms, etc., and this was eight years after my mom had died. My cousin is more a living memory of my mother than I am in a lot of ways, and I still do not know if she is my half-sister. I think everyone is afraid to ask, because no one knows who knows what.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/27/2011 09:29PM by atheist&happy:-).

I'm sorry for the loss of your friend and I'm sorry that when you went to the funeral, the place where folks gather in grief (in theory), you were alone in your grief.

While active in the church I never realized how selfish the funeral services were. Now that I am out of the cult, I see clearly how they make the services all about the church. And then families are left feeling guilty for feeling sad and depressed after a loss. It is so wrong.

I personally feel that when I go to a service for someone who has passed I am there to see the pictures of their life and share in the stories that made them who they were. And to share in the spirit of their soul.

Good for you for remembering your friend for who he really was. I'm sure he was watching, shaking his head at the church members who were trying to make it their day/teaching opportunity. And I'm sure it was important to his son to be able to share his real father with a real friend.

How shameful that his funeral was orchestrated to portray a fraudulent view of his life, as if the reality of it just wasn't good enough. And how doubly shameful that attendees felt the need to talk about church business during the whole thing.

It's fortunate that your friend had a son and at least one buddy (you) that knew, understood, and truly loved him as he was. And it's also fortunate that you are able to pay some kind of tribute to him here, where people understand how appalling this is and have a glimpse of how meaningful he was to you.

I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. One of my close friends had a heart attack in front of me on Friday. He survived, but I'm still in shock and have been contemplating mortality ever since.

I was really moved by your tribute. Good friends make life good.

TBMs cannot face the truth, and they arent searching for the truth.

For most of them, its a comfortable journey, to loose oneself in myths and fantasies,

and continue riding the delusional - to nowhere.

There is no celestial world because there is no solid guarantee of any.