Two Mondays...Two Funerals

 On the eve of a funeral for my cousin's wife, the family was hit again...my mom's brother passed away. One just turned sixty-years old, the other just turned ninety-six. Each left large families behind, families that loved them dearly.

They were two of the most incredible people I've ever known.

We honored and celebrated the first, then seven days later, many of us gathered again to honor the next.

I've always known I was adopted. I can't remember ever being told...it was just part of being in the Taylor family. Even though in the past year I've discovered and met members of my birth parents's families, my adopted family was my family. Having lost my father at a young age, our mother leaned heavily on her siblings and my father's siblings for support--especially to raise three children ten years of age and younger. I grew up with cousins that at times felt more like siblings.

We had incredible times.

Both funerals were for those on my mother's side. She had two brothers, and since her passing in 2007, both brothers grew older, both into their nineties. 

The two people who passed away within a week of each other each lived in the Knight family home in Teton Valley, Idaho...one raised as a child, the other raised a family. You must be strong to live in that valley, and especially in that house. I look up to each of them, for different reasons. They were examples on how to live a blessed life, a Christian life. They were both parents, grandparents, spouses, and friends, and they will be missed.

I've thought many times over the years how incredibly fortunate I have been to be placed in this family. I can hardly put it into words. I'm a better person for knowing these two people, as are countless others. We'll miss you, Sheila and Dean...two of my heroes.