To be honest, I sat in front of the television set growing more and more mesmerized by the memorial with each passing minute, and yet I was also beset by a slew of insignifcant details that caused a constant flow of distracting internal dialogue. For example, while Lee was giving his truly passionate, emotion-packed speech, I was bitterly blaming him for not wearing a jacket. When Cindy stood behind him, sort of patting him in a soothing supportive way, I was wondering why in hell she didn't order him to wear a jacket.
While Lee was addressing his remarks to the "CMAs" I tried to figure out which CMA he was talking to, then I got aggravated because the whole family insists on talking in tongues. When Lee was in tears, I felt terrible for him and filled with admiration because he wasn't afraid to show it, but then he started tearfully kissing his wrist, and as hard as I tried, I could not think of what religion it was where wrist-kissing was a religious gesture.
I'd noticed that the A's were wearing rather an inordinate amount of jewelry for such a somber occasion, but I pushed that thought aside as uncharitable. It wasn't until George was speaking that I finally hit on the fact that the jewelry must be cremation "jewelry," but unfortunately that realization coincided with George's request for letters to KC, which so offended me that I called him a "Moron" out loud.
When Cindy was on stage with the whole group of men, I cringed a bit at what seemed to be too little of her affection directed at George and too much of it directed at an unknown gentleman.... Underlying all of that was my totally unwanted, simmering sense of angry empathy with KC because Cindy had first totally blown off all KC's wishes and usurped her authority by cremating Caylee and throwing this huge public bash of a memorial---and then Cindy had the gall to stand on that stage and, dripping with maternal love, tell KC how very much Cindy wished she could put her arms around her and comfort her!
I found myself wondering angrily if this sort of unfair, emotional warfare hadn't been the story of KC's life. The next thing I knew, I was practically blaming Cindy for Caylee's death and thinking that if KC had killed Cindy rather than Caylee, it could have been justifyable homicide. By that time, Cindy had reclaimed the teddy bear which I realized undoubtedly contained Caylee's ashes and which had been reposing near a picture of KC -- Caylee's murderer.
I swore at Cindy for cremating Caylee and for trying to stuff a picture of KC's murderer down our collective throats, then I reached for the TV's remote control.
All in all, I derived neither comfort nor a sense of closure from that memorial. If anything, it had the reverse effect on me, although that is my particular problem and not the fault of the memorial itself.
