funeral

Dad's funeral really was perfect.  I recognize that sounds like a complete contradiction in terms, but I truly feel it was exactly how he would have wanted it.  Every one of his children participated in the service.  It was ridiculously well attended (like that's a surprise!). Dad always said that funerals should be used as missionary tools.  His was for certain!  Every person walking out of there commented that they wanted to be better, stronger, more kind, more Christ like.  Months later people are still telling me how his funeral reminded them that they can do so much more.  Dad did so much more.  Always.  At the end of the service, I felt such a peace come over me. I truly felt his spirit filled with pleasure, pride, and approval of all that was said.  It was an honor to have two general authorities and the stake president speak.  It was touching to see how many people he's influenced, affected, and impacted in his life on earth.  The numbers are countless.  Truly.  He left a mark on all who knew him.  I am honored that he is my dad.  Like others, I feel the urgings to be better.  To be kinder.  To be softer. To care more about all people.  To always be someone he would be proud of.  Life in the weeks following the funeral got much more painful.  Everybody said it would. I guess I didn't understand that it could hurt so badly despite the sure knowledge I have that I will see him again and that he's in a better place.  In the following weeks that was sometimes of little solace as my heart was so very broken.  Time eases our suffering, I know.  And truly, time does seem to help.  And yet, here I am months later and still every time I wake up my first thought is, my dad is dead.  He is not here. It's still challenging to even grasp at times, though I feel his spirit often, and I also feel peace more often every day.  It remains the front-most thing on my mind.  It's hard to fathom that I can't just pick up my phone and call him or drop my kids off for piggy back rides. And yet, I can also see how much our suffering teaches us.  My testimony is stronger than it ever has been before.  I understand the atonement in a way that I never even considered before this. I know that in time he won't be the first thought in my mind.  But I also know that until I see him again, I will never stop missing him.  I think of how much that must also be true of our separation with our Father in Heaven and of Christ.  If we remembered how important their presence was, I imagine it would be more than we could handle.  It's remarkable, really, that we are able to love so fully, to mourn so sincerely, and to strive so imperfectly to perfect our earthly selves that we may some day return to live with all we love.

Mom's birthday

Mom's birthday was brutiful (beautiful and brutal coined by Glennon).  Countless times I'd look around and think how beautiful life was, to see so many family and friends, but how brutal it was that the main event, dad, wasn't there with us.  It's kind of surreal to have so many people come to celebrate the life of someone who is no longer here in body.  At any rate, Cami kindly took the girls to get pedicures (mom recently discovered that she loves pedicures so that was wonderful). Then, most everybody arrived in town that evening for the funeral in the morning.  We had a BBQ at the park where we laughed, and cried, and hugged.  Though dad wasn't there in body, I'm certain his spirit was hanging with us, smiling with joy at the love he had for every person there.

Kacie time

This little man looked so handsome for church that Sunday. I had to snap some shots!

I was so happy that Kacie was here right after dad died.  I felt such comfort from her because she's one of my dearest, oldest friends, but also because she loved my daddy.  I knew her heart hurt too, and that was comforting to me.  We went swimming at the Peppermill where she let my kids jump in her arms about a billion times which was such a welcome distraction!

Rain

It rained and rained and rained throughout the whole awful ordeal.  It gave me peace as I regularly felt that God was crying right along with us.

4th of July

The 4th of July was pretty abysmal around here.  We had everyone over to our house for a BBQ (everyone was still in town because at this point dad was still in a coma).  We had already been to the temple and already knew that dad wasn't going to be on this earth much longer.  As a result, it was challenging to be of good cheer.  We tried diligently to make the most of it for the kids' sake.  After all, most of them still didn't understand what was going on.  Those who did were as depressed as we were.  My little ones definitely didn't understand completely.  I had sat them down and explained to them that even if grandpa didn't make it, the blessings were still true.  I explained, particularly to Xiana, that the promise that he would remember all of his family members and the love he had for them, and the love they have for him, was absolutely true.  I explained to her that of course he would remember those things if it was his time to leave the earth.  She cried a bit, but I think the faith of a child is powerful because she was fairly resilient.  One of mom's favorite holidays is the 4th of July, her birthday was the following week, and her anniversary shortly after.  I imagine this time of year will be especially hard for her in years to come.  I'm glad we went to the fireworks and made things as normal as possible for our kids, but there were countless times throughout the day where the fact that dad wasn't there with us was almost more than I could bear.  Then, when the fireworks sounded, all I could think about was mom, alone, at home, from here on out.  It was excruciating.  It was hard to be grateful for our freedom in such a trying time, yet, the Lord continued to bless our hearts with comfort and solace. I'm fairly certain though, that this will be the saddest 4th we will have.