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Sunday, September 22, 2013
Gold Lake
Kate's
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Dad's last birthday on earth....
It's interesting how little we pay attention to things, and people when we don't know they won't always be there. We take them for granted. I remember looking through these photos back in April thinking, I don't need to post another birthday blog. The pictures are like all the rest. Dad, with his birthday pie made by mom, candles aflame, singing happy birthday. Now, I cherish them. This was dad's last birthday on earth. These pictures are invaluable. His face is so perfectly displayed as the man we all know and remember.
One of the hardest things for me has been that Xiana was dad's girl. We lived with them for a year when she was 18 months old and have since lived less than five miles away. As a result, I can't recall a time I haven't heard him bragging about her to someone. They had a special bond; a special kind of a relationship. In a lot of respects, he was her biggest advocate which is both inspiring (to be more for her) and heart breaking. He spent so much time with her always giving her his undivided attention and adoration. I yearn for her to remember him. To remember their special times together. Her little heart just broke in pieces and she sobbed as she learned of his death. And yet, her faith is that of a child. She always comments on how she will see him again. So does Kolton. At two, he likely won't have any memories of his grandpa Frey on this earth. I've been trying to listen carefully when she tells me stories or memories so that I could document them and have them in the old blog books so that my children will always be able to be reminded. Later, I'll dig through his journals and be able to raise them on stories from his very mind. I hope they will always feel close to him and always feel that they know him.
Some of the things Xiana has mentioned are the normal things like piggy back rides, London Bridge is Falling Down, Motor boat, mommy and sweetie ( a game in which she got to boss him around), and Ring Around the Rosies. He read ceaselessly to her and gave her a shoulder ride out to the car every time we left his house. When the rest of us sat in the living room visiting or watching a movie, he was known to go into his bedroom with her and hold her during what she deemed the scary parts of Beauty and the Beast. One night at dinner she said, "this pickle makes me think of grandpa because he always used to cut them into tiny little pieces for me." Indeed, what she ate was of great concern to him. He constantly tried to convince her to eat just one more bite. In the mornings he got up and made and ate whole wheat pancakes with her more times than I can count. Every time trying his heart out to get her to drink just one more swallow of milk. In fact, days after his death she commented that, "she would drink milk with breakfast because her grandpa would have wanted her to." He loved to brush her teeth for her when Brian and I went on a date in the night. He always had a spared toothbrush and bubble gum toothpaste (which admittedly was also his favorite). His phone wallpaper was a picture of her that he adored and his office was littered with photos of her. He enjoyed telling her stories, watching Mormon messages with her which always made him tear up, and ordering crazy books that he excitedly read to her when she came over. She told me that he "helped me get up out of the tunnel and always catched-ed me." Which is a sense of security and safety more profound than that of a 5 year old. He always "catched-ed" me too. The other day she told me that while playing at a friend's house they were fighting over a doll. She said, "I asked grandpa if I should share it and he told me I should." I replied, "you heard his voice?" She said, "no, but I had a feeling that he wanted me to share so I did." Indeed, I am certain that he will influence and guide her life from beyond the veil. I'm sure he will be there to watch over her and keep her safe. I'm grateful they shared such a connection and that she will have all things come to a remembrance in time.
Kolton is so little, he probably won't remember much. In trying to help him understand what death means we have been explaining things to him. We didn't think he understood because he kept saying, "my grandpa died" and then laughing. Now, after much coaching, he tells strangers, "my grandpa died, it not funny." But one day, as we were driving, he was in the back seat talking to himself. We listened as he said, "my grandpa died. no more motor boat, no more london bridge, no more pony boy, no more horsy rides, no more rosies" and tears spilled down his cheeks. He doesn't always understand, but at times it's heavy the extent to which he does. Other times he says, "my grandpa died. I see him again." I tell him yes, but not until you die which he usually responds to with a ,"yay, yippee!" It's cute, but a little disarming. It makes me so sad that my kids will grow up in a world where they can't drop by and play with grandpa every other day as we have grown accustomed. But, I'm grateful that they ever had that, and I know that he will continue to be one of their biggest advocates, appealing to the Lord for blessings and protection throughout their lives.
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One of the hardest things for me has been that Xiana was dad's girl. We lived with them for a year when she was 18 months old and have since lived less than five miles away. As a result, I can't recall a time I haven't heard him bragging about her to someone. They had a special bond; a special kind of a relationship. In a lot of respects, he was her biggest advocate which is both inspiring (to be more for her) and heart breaking. He spent so much time with her always giving her his undivided attention and adoration. I yearn for her to remember him. To remember their special times together. Her little heart just broke in pieces and she sobbed as she learned of his death. And yet, her faith is that of a child. She always comments on how she will see him again. So does Kolton. At two, he likely won't have any memories of his grandpa Frey on this earth. I've been trying to listen carefully when she tells me stories or memories so that I could document them and have them in the old blog books so that my children will always be able to be reminded. Later, I'll dig through his journals and be able to raise them on stories from his very mind. I hope they will always feel close to him and always feel that they know him.
Some of the things Xiana has mentioned are the normal things like piggy back rides, London Bridge is Falling Down, Motor boat, mommy and sweetie ( a game in which she got to boss him around), and Ring Around the Rosies. He read ceaselessly to her and gave her a shoulder ride out to the car every time we left his house. When the rest of us sat in the living room visiting or watching a movie, he was known to go into his bedroom with her and hold her during what she deemed the scary parts of Beauty and the Beast. One night at dinner she said, "this pickle makes me think of grandpa because he always used to cut them into tiny little pieces for me." Indeed, what she ate was of great concern to him. He constantly tried to convince her to eat just one more bite. In the mornings he got up and made and ate whole wheat pancakes with her more times than I can count. Every time trying his heart out to get her to drink just one more swallow of milk. In fact, days after his death she commented that, "she would drink milk with breakfast because her grandpa would have wanted her to." He loved to brush her teeth for her when Brian and I went on a date in the night. He always had a spared toothbrush and bubble gum toothpaste (which admittedly was also his favorite). His phone wallpaper was a picture of her that he adored and his office was littered with photos of her. He enjoyed telling her stories, watching Mormon messages with her which always made him tear up, and ordering crazy books that he excitedly read to her when she came over. She told me that he "helped me get up out of the tunnel and always catched-ed me." Which is a sense of security and safety more profound than that of a 5 year old. He always "catched-ed" me too. The other day she told me that while playing at a friend's house they were fighting over a doll. She said, "I asked grandpa if I should share it and he told me I should." I replied, "you heard his voice?" She said, "no, but I had a feeling that he wanted me to share so I did." Indeed, I am certain that he will influence and guide her life from beyond the veil. I'm sure he will be there to watch over her and keep her safe. I'm grateful they shared such a connection and that she will have all things come to a remembrance in time.
Kolton is so little, he probably won't remember much. In trying to help him understand what death means we have been explaining things to him. We didn't think he understood because he kept saying, "my grandpa died" and then laughing. Now, after much coaching, he tells strangers, "my grandpa died, it not funny." But one day, as we were driving, he was in the back seat talking to himself. We listened as he said, "my grandpa died. no more motor boat, no more london bridge, no more pony boy, no more horsy rides, no more rosies" and tears spilled down his cheeks. He doesn't always understand, but at times it's heavy the extent to which he does. Other times he says, "my grandpa died. I see him again." I tell him yes, but not until you die which he usually responds to with a ,"yay, yippee!" It's cute, but a little disarming. It makes me so sad that my kids will grow up in a world where they can't drop by and play with grandpa every other day as we have grown accustomed. But, I'm grateful that they ever had that, and I know that he will continue to be one of their biggest advocates, appealing to the Lord for blessings and protection throughout their lives.
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Sunday, September 8, 2013
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