In April, I survived a terrorist bombing.
In May, I sent my oldest kid on a mission for 2 years.
In June, my perfectly-healthy and super-fit dad suddenly passed away at age 66.
July was relatively uneventful. A family reunion, half-marathon, scout camp and a high adventure.
Now it's August and we are taking Aubrey to college in Utah.
My heart has had just about enough. But life goes on, kids grow up, people we love pass away. We knew life would be full of joys and sorrows, and this is exactly what we are on earth for.
This aching heart is part of the earth experience we signed up for. Along with the happy and joyous feelings of the heart, the sorrow and pain is necessary for us to truly learn everything we need to learn. I loved this message from David A. Bednar
"Our physical bodies make possible a breadth, a depth, and an intensity of experience that simply could not be obtained in our premortal existence. Thus, our relationships with other people, our capacity to recognize and act in accordance with truth, and our ability to obey the principles and ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ are amplified through our physical bodies. In the school of mortality, we experience tenderness, love, kindness, happiness, sorrow, disappointment, pain, and even the challenges of physical limitations in ways that prepare us for eternity. Simply stated, there are lessons we must learn and experiences we must have, as the scriptures describe, “according to the flesh”
I know that the emotions I have felt over the past months have given me experiences and opportunities I would not have had otherwise. I'm trying to find the blessings in all of this and to become better, stronger and more loving because of it.
If my kids grew up to be losers who just wanted to live in my basement and take classes at the community college up the road, I would be heartbroken forever. The heartbreak of sending your kid away for 2 years or your awesome daughter to college are very temporary, and are soon outweighed by the joys of seeing them become outstanding, responsible, caring, serving adults. Abram's emails from Mexico are the most exciting thing in my life as I read about the love he has for the Mexican people he is serving. I can't wait to start hearing about Aubrey's adventures in Logan as she gets to experience her freshman year of college.
If my dad had been just sort of there, rather than the greatest, coolest, funnest, smartest, most involved dad ever, my heartbreak at his unexpected passing would not have been so great. But I will take that heartbreak knowing that he is now a guardian angel for my family. He taught me how to love and how to make life exciting, and now it's my job to play that role in the lives of my kids while my dad watches us from heaven. I know that he is in Mexico watching over Abram, he will be there for Aubrey when she needs help or comfort. He is there with my mom and siblings as we try to navigate this world without our fanny-packed tour guide. He will still be a part of all of our special occasions. He lives in us. And as great as our grief is that he is not here with us now, our joy at seeing him again will be more wonderful than I can even imagine. It will all be worth it in the end.
I wrote about my dad just 2 days before he died. I am so happy that I shared what I had written with him before he died. He loved it, and it brought back so many great memories for both of us. And because I shared it with him before he died, I feel like God blessed me to be able to say goodbye to my dad. When I wrote it I had no idea my dad would be gone two days later, but I cried and cried as I wrote it. When it can time to plan the funeral, I felt like I had already written a talk just for it. I added some things to it and read it at his funeral. I have since added a few more things.
I love my dad. He taught me the names of the mountains, stars, clouds and rocks. He taught me how to forecast the weather--my lifelong passion. He even arranged for Santa to bring me a barometer for Christmas when I was eleven. He taught me to love science. He taught me to love languages. He taught me to sing "Stille Nacht," "O Tannenbaum," and to be good for the Weihnachtsmann. He taught me to love people no matter what they look like. He taught me how to read a map and find my directions no matter where I am. He taught me to pray for comfort on nights when I couldn't sleep because I was sure the Russians were coming to bomb us. He taught me to be courageous as he, with a smile on his face, battled colon cancer and then liver cancer--and won. He taught me how to do word searches and how to build a fire. He taught me to love the music of the 60's, and how to harmonize a song as we sang them in the car. He taught me the stories of the Old Testament heroes. He taught me that Root Beer is the perfect drink for all occasions, and that dinner is not complete without a loaf of bread on the table. He taught me that the Smothers Brothers and Pink Panther were the height of comedy. He taught me the stories of Br'er Rabbit, The Five Chinese Brothers and the Fisherman and His Wife. He taught me to ride a bike, to change a tire, to plant a garden and how to type. He taught me to love camping and hiking, and that the best place to sleep in the summer is outside. He taught me to never go anywhere without a first aid kit, a flashlight or a pocketknife, and that fanny packs can be cool. He slept with us in the living room so he could wake us up at 2AM to see the eclipse of a lifetime through viewers he had crafted himself. He made my childhood awesome. But most of all, he taught me through his life and his faith that should a day ever come when we had to say goodbye, everything would be fine and we would be together again.
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