Boilerplate Disclaimer: The characters from the Kim Possible series are owned by Disney. Any and all registered trade names property of their respective owners. Cheap shots at celebrities constitute fair usage.

Chapter originally began by quoting the third stanza of W. Gordon Smith's poem Come by the Hills. The verse reflects on the fact the traces of the past are never gone, what has happened continues to live on. But we are not to live there, the future lies before us. Let the cares of today be sufficient for the day, tomorrow's troubles will come soon enough.

The Past Has Been Lost and the Future Is Still to Be Won

There was always activity in the old house in the morning as people went off to work or school. Often the house would be empty for hours until residents began to filter back, but Shego remained at home. After family and friends departed Shego called Jane.

"Why aren't you at one of your offices?" Jane demanded.

"I didn't feel like working today. How's your mission going?"

"Fine. You never call to ask about missions."

"What never?"

"Well, hardly ever," Jane laughed – picking up the cue from HMS Pinafore.

"Good catch, but aren't you the suspicious one? I called to say thanks for everything yesterday. It meant a lot to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"When you get back, ask Kasy and Sheki if they followed my directions. If they didn't – you're my emergency backup."

"Can you toss me a clue, please?"

"You don't like it when the woman who gave you birth goes mysterious on you?"

"No, it reminds me of a certain wedding anniversary. For which, by the way, she has never apologized."

"What's there to apologize for? Whenever someone tells a story about their crazy mother you have the best topper in the world."

"That is an honor I could do without."

"Be honest. How many times have you told that story?"

"A lot," Jane admitted.

"See," Shego told her smugly. "The worst days make the best stories. But I didn't call to talk history. I have things to do today, but I really needed to call for yesterday and say thanks for everything."

"You still haven't told me what that means."

"You'll know yesterday."

After the call Shego began preparations, but was interrupted by a call of "Hello?"

"Kasy?"

"And Sheki," came the voice of the other twin.

"You two are early."

"You asked us both to stop by, we figured it must be important."

Shego swore quietly under her breath, then went out to meet her daughters. She hugged them both. "Hold on a second, got a song stuck in my head." She headed for the living room, went to the piano, sat down and played a snatch of a song that was unfamiliar to either girl. "Sheki, go make a pot of tea. Kasy, go with her. See if you can find that song. It went with a television show about the Vietnam War. I used to watch reruns of it with grandpa George when I was a little girl."

"Why do–"

"Go to the kitchen with your sister. I'll be done in a minute." Shego began playing Für Elise, a piece Kim had always loved to hear.

Sheki tugged her sister's arm, "Come on, faster to do it her way than argue with her."

"Listen to Sheki," Shego seconded. "Go to the kitchen. I love you." "Famous last words."

The younger twin put the kettle on to boil as Kasy tried to find a television program about the Vietnam War that Shego might have watched in reruns with her father. It took several minutes. "The old girl's starting to lose it," Kasy chuckled.

"What?"

"The TV program she watched with grandpa. It wasn't about Vietnam, that was when it was produced. It was set in the Korean War and–," Kasy stared at the phone a second, then screamed, "Sheki! We have to stop Eemah," and took off running.

Sheki ran after her sister, a closed door confronted them with intense light streaming through every crack around the frame. Kasy pushed, "Blocked!"

"I'll help, let–"

Kasy changed her position, blocking her sister. "No! The light is so intense it might blind us."

"What's happening?"

"Remember the story, how she once slowly released her energy as heat to keep mom and Ron alive on a mission in China?"

"Yes."

"She's giving up all her energy fast, as light."

"How did you–"

Kasy handed Sheki her phone, the screen still on the lyrics she had discovered. "The show was called M*A*S*H – Mobile Army Surgical Hospital."

Sheki read the lyrics, "Through early morning fog I see..."

The name of the song is, "Suicide is painless," Kasy explained. Sheki stopped reading and handed the phone back.

"Where are you going?" Kasy demanded as her sister walked away.

"The library, she left instructions for me." The desk drawer held an envelope, and a small package.

The light flickered, and finally went out before Kasy forced the door and entered the living room. Shego was slumped over the keyboard. The intensity of the light had faded the room. Shadows were burned into the walls. Kasy mechanically checked for a pulse, knowing there was no point but feeling a need to do something. The tears started. "Damn you," she muttered softly.

Sheki came to the living room, reading the page of instructions. "Call the chevra kaddisha," she told Kasy. "I'm calling the medical examiner. I'm supposed to threaten him with the biggest lawsuit in the history of Middleton if he asks for an autopsy."

"He won't," Kasy told her. "Eemah already told him how to fill out cause of death. I'll call the cemetery."

"You don't need to," Sheki told her, looking back at the instructions. "She had the grave dug two days ago."

"How did she manage that?"

"Doesn't say. But knowing Eemah it probably included misdirecting someone."

"Yeah."

"There's more," Sheki said, and handed Kasy the instructions.

The Medical Examiner arrived within the hour. "The law calls for an autopsy if–"

"She didn't want an autopsy. Kasy said you'd understand."

The man sighed, "She told me what she wanted. I was afraid... I hoped she'd change her mind, or I guessed wrong on what she meant."

"What are you talking about?" Sheki demanded.

He shrugged. "Law still recognizes 'death by broken heart' as a legal category. Told me that when she died that was what she wanted on the death certificate. Laws sometimes stay on the books too long."

"Death by broken heart?"

"She was a determined woman," Kasy told him. "She always said she'd forgotten how to live without mom. She had to prove she was right."

He nodded, "Well, it'll be on the death certificate, cause of death: broken heart. I'll probably catch hell for it, but it was what she wanted."

"If there are any kind of problem," Sheki told him, "A.B.D. and Z. will defend you, Judge's orders."

"Much obliged," he nodded and left.

The women from the chevra kaddisha arrived during the medical examiner's stop. After his departure Kasy helped them wash Shego's body, wrap her in linen, and then laid the body in the wooden coffin the funeral home had delivered to the house.

Friends and family were allowed in the room as Shego was placed in the coffin. A member of the burial society started to close the top of the coffin when Kasy called, "Not yet! She wanted to be wrapped in her tallis." She ran from the room, and returned a few minutes later with the green-and-black prayer shawl that Ron had given Shego as a gift before her first marriage to Kim – the tallis which had served as the chuppah, the wedding canopy, for the wedding. Kasy carefully wrapped the tallis around Shego's body and nodded to the woman who had tried to close the coffin earlier. "Now."

"No!" said the shaking voice of a teen. Sheki's stomach tightened. Bob strode forward. He pulled out the pocket knife with which he'd already cut his own shirt as a sign of mourning. "You can't bury someone in a kosher tallis," he reminded Kasy and carefully cut off the knotted fringe off one corner of the old tallis. He held the tassel and said, "Now."

The woman did not close the coffin immediately. She reminded the teen, "You were right to cut off the corner, but the custom is to leave it in the coffin."

"No," he said, clutching it tightly. "We may have argued, but I loved her." He started crying, "I want to put it on one corner of my tallis."

Kasy hugged the crying youth. "I think that would have made Eemah very proud." She nodded to the woman, who closed the coffin, which was then carried to the hearse waiting outside.

"She wanted to have the same yahrtzeit as Kim," Bob sobbed.

"Same yahrtzeit?" Kasy asked, puzzled. "It was more than a year since mom died."

"Long year," the teen reminded her. "Remember, the holidays are late this year."

As family and friends exited the house for the trip to the cemetery, Kasy and Sheki were confronted by an angry Jane. "Three days!" she told them in an accusatory voice. "Three days you waited to tell me she was dead."

"Just following instructions," Sheki told her. "She gave us a pretty detailed list – and it said we should wait until your mission was over. Maybe she didn't want it to interfere with your work."

"More likely it was her final poke at me for following in mom's footsteps instead of doing what she wanted," Jane grumbled. "Can I ride with you two of the cemetery? She told me something that... this morning. I... Can I ride with you?"

"Of course," Sheki assured her.

Jane had no plans to tell her older sisters that Shego had thanked her for the day before. She had no idea why Shego thanked her, but there was a small fear in the pit of her stomach that something she had said or done had influenced her mother's decision.

A woman from the burial society called, "You safe to drive, or want me to drive you?"

"We can drive, thanks," Kasy answered.

Ronin headed over, but Sheki waved him away, "Help others. I'm okay."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're okay?"

"No, but I'm running on adrenaline now. When I crash I'm your full-time job."

As the sisters followed the hearse Jane explained, "Eemah said I should ask you if you got something done. I'm your emergency backup if you failed."

"Sheki and me?" Kasy boasted, "Anything is possible for us Possibles. Of course we got it done."

"What was it?"

"Umm..." Kasy mused. "Don't know if we should tell you. Eemah broke halakah."

"Of course we tell her," Sheki said, "she's our sister." She looked at Jane, "But it doesn't go beyond the three of us."

"Eemah broke halakah?"

"Well, she always said Talmud is suggestive rather than binding. And she felt strongly about this." Kasy reminded Jane of Shego's frequent comment, "If the rabbis had really been smart they'd have asked women for their opinion."

"But it still would upset some Jews, so keep it quiet," warned Sheki.

"Okay," Jane agreed. "But dying of a broken heart is not exactly against Jewish law."

Sheki looked at Kasy, "Did you notice the urn on the mantle was gone?"

"You put Mom's ashes in with Eemah?" Jane asked.

"Bob?" Kasy asked.

"I didn't see, but that's my guess. He wouldn't want us treiffing the Jewish cemetery with gentile ashes."

"Wait," Jane protested, "Mom's ashes are gone, and you didn't take them?"

Kasy chucked, "The sneaky little... I guess he really is family."

"I'll tell you what's wrong with this family," Jane protested. "No one will give a straight answer. I mean, I know I can't give myself a straight answer, but you'd think one of us could show a little more of mom."

"Bob was obviously afraid one of us would try and put mom's ashes in the coffin with Eemah," Sheki explained. "So he took the urn from the mantle and must have hidden it somewhere. He's always said it was inappropriate to have the ashes in the house. When he confesses we'll say he should scatter them wherever he feels appropriate."

"I'm still lost," Jane confessed, and looked at Kasy. "Don't say a word."

"Actually, I was going to ask what we do if he notices the little 'D' on the bottom of the urn he took?"

"D?" Jane asked.

"For decoy," Sheki told her. "He guessed right. Eemah wanted mom's ashes in with her. So we put out a decoy urn and he grabbed it. Kasy tucked the real one in under the tallis."

"If this doesn't sound stupid," Jane asked, "why have the Jewish twin do what Jewish law says is wrong instead of the Christian?"

"'Cause there would have been screams that I was anti-Semitic if I got caught," Sheki explained.

Jane said nothing for a minute, thinking. "A hard balance. You need respect for tradition, but you can't be a slave to it. I guess the important thing is Mom and Eemah, back together under their wedding chuppah."

–The End–

A traditional Jewish funeral takes place the day of death, if possible, or within twenty-four hours. (Traditional funeral practices aren't always followed.) Traditionally things are kept simple. Death is the great leveler – no need to shame a poor family or show of wealth by a rich family. There are separate burial societies for men and women. The body is cleaned, wrapped in linen, and laid in a plain coffin.

Preparing a body for burial is a great mitzvah, since the dead cannot repay you for this act of virtue.

A solar year represents a full orbit of the earth around the sun, about 365.25 days. It took centuries to define precisely. The lunar year is twelve cycles of the moon, around 354 days – easy to observe. The Islamic calendar is strictly lunar. Some calendars, like the Chinese and Jewish, are corrected lunar/lunisolar. They add an extra month periodically to bring the lunar cycle into harmony with the solar cycle. On the Jewish calendar this is an extra month of Adar, and on long years the dates for holy days are pushed back because of the difference.

Yahrzeit, the anniversary of a loved one's death, is observed by the date on the Jewish calendar.