What is taught as the "normal" family? Mom, Dad, sister, brother, pet. We're taught that there can be all sorts of different families; single-parent, grandparents as parents, foster parents, aunts or uncles as parents, the list goes on and on. When you're born, do you get to choose them? No. My parents, Kurt and Melodie, were married Dec 27 1979 in Oakland, California. My dad was born in Waukesha, Wisconsin, while my mom was born in Chico, California. They met at Brigham Young University, the most popular and well-known school in Provo, Utah and met while touring together for the infamous music group, the Young Ambassadors. My mom played piano while my dad was asked to play trumpet. What was my mom's first impression of my dad? He was a complete flirt. Nice smile, good-looking hair, outgoing personality, intelligent, athletic, etc. What was my mom like? Over-achiever, confident, hard-working, intelligent and reserved.
I've never gotten a true answer as to what made them fall in love, but my mom, being raised LDS, was determined to marry an RM, or a returned missionary. My dad, raised Catholic, became a member at age 18. He was determined to win my mom's heart, so he served a 2-year mission to the former Yugoslovia for 2 years. They married when he returned, my mom having graduated and on to teach English while my dad was preparing for his music career. My mom didn't look physically like she does today. She struggled with her weight, but luckily, she had my dad, an avid swimmer, by her side to help her. Both of my parents come from 4 children families, both of them being the oldest. They come from high-achieving families, with my mom's family excelling in school while my dad's family excelled in pretty much everything. They moved to Orem when my dad was around 8. When my grandpa was a swimming coach at BYU, he quickly gained the notoriety he has today. Everywhere I go, I'm asked, "Are you related to...." and Bestor usually follows. I nicknamed them the "Kennedys of Orem".
We were the Bestors. Melodie, Kurt, Kristin and Erika. We were raised in a regular suburban neighborhood in the riverbottoms of Provo, with our beautiful house and a deck overlooking the Provo river. We were loved by everyone in our ward, my dad was quickly gaining popularity as a well-known composer, primarily in the LDS church. All of that changed in October 1999, when my dad came into our family room and started explaining why he had been gone so much. "Your mom and I have decided to divorce." Some of the worst words an 11 year old could hear. 11. Not 13, not 5, but 11. In the middle. Not a teenager yet. I wasn't even going through my worst years when I was going through one of the worst moments of my life. My sister, age 18, was almost in college at this point. She had gone through her teenage drama, with my parents by her side. What was left for me? Pretty soon, my dad was gone. Not out of the state, mind you, but out of the house; away from me. Visitations started happening, promises of making it to a lunch or dinner being broken. My dad still had a website with a comments board on it. Imagine what comments were written by the small amount of fans who knew. Infidelity, lies, secrets all started pouring out. Our "FHE" or Family Home Evenings soon consisted of "talking about Dad". This man I thought I knew, but was way off. But, things started making sense; his behavior when we read scriptures, which was, quite frankly, flippant and comical. His lack of attention to my mom. My vivid memory of a family vacation to Idaho Falls, sitting in our hotel room, hearing my mom crying in the other room. Trying to practice the piano, hearing the same arguing in my dad's den. It all pieced together.
My mom, Kristin and I moved to a smaller, one might say "ghetto" neighborhood in downtown Provo while my dad moved to Salt Lake. That was when I was introduced to the word "stepmom". You know Cinderella, right? Well, it wasn't THAT bad. Holli had 2 daughters from her first marriage. I got to be a big sister, albeit stepsister. I enjoyed being with little Hannah and Abbi. Little did I know what a horrible arrangement that marriage was. Only 7 months did it last; pretty soon, I was put into a "he said she said" war. Insults after insults started coming, mostly from her. A newspaper article in 2001 even came out, somewhat exposing my dad's inner demons. His parents, my former stepmom and even my mom were asked to comment. Who do you think was the nice one? The wife who just barely got left or the one he had spent 20 years and had 2 children with? Yep, you guessed it. My mom was amazing, raving about his talents, his infectious personality; not mentioning the years of pain he had subjected her to. It took overwhelming amounts of prayer and thought, mind you. But, she did it. Granted, the divorce could've been much worse. Money could've been involved, physical or sexual abuse could've taken place. That should make this all a good thing, right?
My dad went from living from loft to apt in Salt Lake City, pretty soon meeting his current wife. My second stepmom. I should be used to this routine now, right? But, the garments were off, an earring was placed, and a whole new Kurt Bestor emerged. Yes, I'm being over-dramatic; but who, do you ask, would work with someone who didn't believe in divorce, had the gift of the Holy Spirit, as we call it, in him, and yet did all of these things he was taught never to do? Nobody. Pretty soon, my dad was, shall we say, "abandoned" by some people who worked with and looked up to him. Why? Because of his religious beliefs, or lack thereof. How did I feel? His daughter? His flesh and blood? Torn. Devastated. Angry. I soon found out my current stepmother was not LDS at all. I wasn't 100%, as we say, "Molly Mormon", but I was pretty shocked. Little did I know they had actually met in the early 80's while Petrina was working for a man we all know as Robert Redford, she being from Kenya and being his cultural consultant for one of his films. Had they hooked up earlier, what would've happened, I wonder?
I had hoped that was the end of my pain and I could finally settle and accept my dad's life for what it was. But, in 2009, there was a surprise I didn't see coming. As I took a break from work, my cell phone rang and my dad asked me the following: "What is the craziest thing your dad could ever do?" Boy, was that a long list! Being taken back by this question, I immediately replied, "Get a tattoo?" Nope. I paused and said, "Petrina's pregnant?" What followed? Laughter. Was I humorously shocked? No. I was legitimately shocked. Memories flooded back to 6 years before, when they were engaged. "Dad, will you and Petrina ever have children?" "No," he replied. "Petrina has her cats (she had 3 at the time) and I have you and Kristin". Was I wearing earplugs when I heard that? Did I not hear him right? Pretty soon, I didn't have a stepsister. I had a half-sister. Half of my dad. She has one half and I have the other half. I immediately went into "little girl" mode. "I want to be his little girl. He called me Shmerika and squeezed my cheeks." The tears started coming and wouldn't stop. Do I love Ella? Sure. But, she didn't have herself. She didn't spend thousands of dollars to have herself through in vitro fertilization. Now, I'm faced with my dad going on family vacations-camping, Kenyan safaris-all without me. Yes, it's been 17 years since the divorce. Yes, my dad has been married to Petrina for 13 years now. Years don't make a difference. Time heals all wounds? Not in this case. Perhaps it would be different if my dad wasn't in the public eye. Perhaps it would be different if Petrina wasn't so highly praised by my dad in the public eye. Perhaps it would be different if my dad had a little bit more humble attitude and realized how I truly feel. Perhaps. Maybe not. Maybe never.
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