Usually the emotions I experience when researching my genealogy are the usual...joy, frustration, anger, puzzlement and satisfaction. I have been researching my family history for over 18 years and it has been fun and satisfying for most of it but recently I came across a situation that I was not ready for and I was not sure how I was going to deal with it.
I have a certain method to my genealogical madness...find the ancestor, find the records to cement birth and death dates, verify that I have the right people and then go about fleshing out their story with census records, personal memories and so on. I was working on one of my Windham ancestors, when EUREKA! I found his death record which listed his final resting place. I was so excited to get this information that I googled the cemetery to get the contact number and that is when my nightmare began.
As I sat staring at my computer, staring at the numerous news articles about the scandal associated with this cemetery as well as pictures of the relatives of those living, searching for the graves of their loved ones and not finding them, I could feel my horror grow. The staff at the cemetery, who had decided that money mattered more than human decency, had been double selling burial plots, removing the original remains and tossing them in a pit on the property or tossing them in mass graves. I sat there in disbelief, anger, and surprisingly, anguish. I had never met this ancestor but he was my ancestor and I would not be here without him. The idea that someone may have disturbed his final resting place and treated his remains like that broke my heart. I also had the notion that eventually I would need to speak to my dad about this since this was his grandfather.
Jeff Windham seems to be a simple man. He had his family but he would take off at times and he had two names. He either went by his first name, Jeff or his middle name, David. It seems to depend on the status of the person in his life. My great grandmother called him David. He was a junk man and my dad tells stories of Grandpa David taking him and his brother with him sometimes to collect metals and whatnot around the neighborhoods. My dad always smiles when he tells those stories so I can tell that he enjoyed himself and he loved spending time with him. The last thing I want to have to do is tell my dad that Grandpa David,s grave was violated and that I'm not sure where he is. The idea that his remains had been disrespected in such a way made me sick and if I thought about it too long, I would begin to cry.
After contacting the funeral home and the detective that was on the case, I learned that Grandpa David's grave was not one the graves disturbed. I cannot express the relief I felt when I heard those words. I am also thankful that my family did not have to deal with that type of heartache and the good memories are intact and untainted. Our dead should be shown the utmost respect. To treat them like garbage is the act of a soulless individual. For those who committed these crimes, I hope that they realize the hurt they cause and learn that your dignity, self respect and humanity are not for sale. Some hurts cannot be fixed and while some will never forgive them, I hope they spend the rest of their lives being agents of good in their community. My heart goes out to the family members of those whose remains were disrespected and violated. I hope they were able to find their loved ones and able to close this chapter on this nightmare and get on with good living. I know that this will not be the story of some of the families and my prayers are with them.
Jeff Windham seems to be a simple man. He had his family but he would take off at times and he had two names. He either went by his first name, Jeff or his middle name, David. It seems to depend on the status of the person in his life. My great grandmother called him David. He was a junk man and my dad tells stories of Grandpa David taking him and his brother with him sometimes to collect metals and whatnot around the neighborhoods. My dad always smiles when he tells those stories so I can tell that he enjoyed himself and he loved spending time with him. The last thing I want to have to do is tell my dad that Grandpa David,s grave was violated and that I'm not sure where he is. The idea that his remains had been disrespected in such a way made me sick and if I thought about it too long, I would begin to cry.
After contacting the funeral home and the detective that was on the case, I learned that Grandpa David's grave was not one the graves disturbed. I cannot express the relief I felt when I heard those words. I am also thankful that my family did not have to deal with that type of heartache and the good memories are intact and untainted. Our dead should be shown the utmost respect. To treat them like garbage is the act of a soulless individual. For those who committed these crimes, I hope that they realize the hurt they cause and learn that your dignity, self respect and humanity are not for sale. Some hurts cannot be fixed and while some will never forgive them, I hope they spend the rest of their lives being agents of good in their community. My heart goes out to the family members of those whose remains were disrespected and violated. I hope they were able to find their loved ones and able to close this chapter on this nightmare and get on with good living. I know that this will not be the story of some of the families and my prayers are with them.
