Dad's funeral

I've been putting off posting about this because it was just such a personal experience. There were so many tender mercies I don't want to forget. So many moments with my siblings I don't think I could forget. So many tears and so many prayers. But is that all too personal for a blog post? I think for now I'll keep it simple and write in my journal all the other stuff...and there was a lot of other stuff.

I still can't believe he's gone. I still cry when I think about it. I listen to the CD we made of a list of songs he requested for his funeral and it makes me miss him. He was a good man. He was one of the kindest people I've ever known and he worked hard for us. I will forever be grateful for the time I had with him this summer. I feel like I saw him more this summer than I have in years and I just feel extremely lucky for that. I think he knew how much we loved him even though the last few years have been a little tough. I'm confident he's in a good place and that they way he lived on Earth will be rewarded to him tenfold in Heaven.

How lucky we were to have all of us kids there together when Dad passed. It all happened pretty fast. I left Las Vegas on a Friday night after a phone call from the neurologist that he had some bleeding on the brain and would probably need to be admitted to the hospital. The neurologist wanted to contact a couple other of Dad's docs before he sent him to the hospital though. Dad seemed good - not himself for sure but he hadn't been himself for years - so I took the girls and got on the plane. They didn't hear from his doctor all weekend and by Monday Dad couldn't grip a pencil in his left hand. Mom had been watching him all weekend and didn't notice any change in him but when he was losing feeling on his left side they went to the ER. He still said he felt "fine" and sat in the hospital that whole next week happily buying things off the TV and circling what he wanted to eat on the menu for each day. He even sent a big ol' envelope to his lawyer with a bunch of financial information from the hospital! Who does that!? That man worked until he couldn't work anymore. They had done a bunch of tests and the doctors couldn't seem to agree about what was going on. His neurologist had originally thought he had a blood clot (that they could take out at their hospital in Vegas) but the docs that checked him in did their own CT scan and thought it was a tumor. So they were doing more tests to figure out if he had cancer and there was talk of sending him to Huntsman in Utah for brain surgery. Dad seemed to be handling the tests well (it's a tricky balancing act having to take him off meds like Coumadin to do tests but to not keep him off long enough that he gets a clot). Anyway, Mom said she knew something was really wrong on Monday night when he was trying to circle the food on the menu he wanted and he just couldn't seem to find the energy to do it. She asked him if he wanted her to do it and he said yes, he couldn't seem to concentrate enough to get it done or something like that. Tuesday he was admitted to the ICU - coincidentally the same room Mom was in a few months earlier. Nancy and Brent were already there, Paul jumped in his car and Keek and I were the last to arrive on Wednesday afternoon. We went straight to the hospital. It was a shocking sight. Even having seen Mom in the ICU, I wasn't prepared for seeing Dad. Mom looked old, Dad looked...swollen and bruised. I talked to Dad and let him know we were all there. He seemed to raise his eyebrows at me when I talked to him but that could've been a twitch or something rather. I still believe he knew we were all there. His extremities were freezing but his core was roasting. They had an ice blanket on him but it was hard to hold his cold hands and feet. We went home and had dinner and the next morning we got a call from his nurse saying we should come in. We knew then that he wouldn't make it. The nurses and doctors at the hospital were great. Dad's main nurse talked us through how the process would go and promised us he'd make Dad comfortable. We said our goodbyes. It was painful. We all cried. A lot.

Now we had a funeral to plan and families to get to Utah. Brent & Nancy went home to take care of their families, which left Keek, Paul and I for a night or 2 together before Paul had to get home. We were sitting out on the porch one night talking with Mom when the golf course sprinklers came on. I don't know who's rebel idea it was to run in them, but we did. We laughed so hard and had a fun time. Then we decided maybe we'd go through the tunnel too. Man alive that tunnel is dark!!! We only made it a few feet before we freaked out and had to get the flashlights. It was even a bit scary with flashlights. We cruised the golf course for awhile and when we were headed back to the tunnel to go home Paul made us turn our flashlights off for the entire tunnel. It was scary but since we'd seen before that it wasn't crawling with bugs we made it. It was good to feel young again. Here's Keek and Paul soaking wet.



These pictures don't really convey the feeling of the funeral to me. Dad had it all planned out and wanted it to be a day (a week!?) of celebration. He requested that those who speak and pray shouldn't weep and shouldn't need scripts. He wanted Paul & Jenna to dance and for everyone to join in. He wanted laughter and happy memories. It was still a funeral and I still cried (a LOT! which is why I wasn't included in the program) BUT it was a joyous occasion in a way. SO many friends and family drove and flew really long distances to be with us this day and that was the most touching of all. It's hard to say goodbye but we know it will only be for a short while and I'm grateful for my understanding that our family IS eternal.

Here we all are after the service at the mortuary. It's obvious someone is missing, and that's sad. I'm glad we were all there together though. Nancy, Mom, Keek, Brent, me, Paul.


The men of the family carrying the casket at the cemetery.


I love how the vets show up and do this for a family they don't even know. Taps is always hard to hear. After the burial Porter & Ethan gave me a bullet shell. I still have it in my purse 'cause I don't know what to do with it.


The boys bouts on the casket. Bye Dad. We sure do love you.


Everyone was invited to El Mexicano for lunch (linner?) after the services. It was actually decent food considering we were in small town Utah and they were very accommodating of our large group and did a good job.

Here's Grandma and I outside the restaurant. Since the funeral was in Mt. Pleasant, Utah we did all the planning the week before in Vegas and then drove to Utah the night before the services, and we all went our separate ways immediately following lunch. That felt strange to me. I wanted to be able to spend more time with Grandma and other family and friends but also needed to get home to my family. I love my Grandma.



I can still remember so clearly how I felt the moment this guy pulled into the hotel parking lot. It had been a long couple of weeks. After Dad died we (Mom, Keek and I) had a week to get their affairs in order and plan a funeral so we worked and worked (and worked!) all day long with random breaks to eat and play Bananagrams of course. Poor Todd was left home to figure out how to take care of the kids and work and then any time we'd actually be on the phone together I'd have to get off quickly because someone was at the door or we were in the middle of something. I hadn't really stopped to think that this was hard on him too...only he didn't get to mourn like I did. Thursday night after work he drove from Seattle to Boise. Stayed the night and then left the kids there with his family and drove from Boise to Mt. Pleasant all day Friday and showed up at the hotel just after dinner Friday night. We talked on the phone for the last half hour of his trip and when he pulled into the parking lot in our red van I lost it. I love this guy and needed him there far more than I realized being on auto pilot like I was.


We know it was right and it's ok he's passed but it's still hard. I don't cry about it too much but I find that when I'm crying about it it's because I feel sorry for myself. I start thinking, "I'm only 33! That's too young to lose my Dad! I still need him around!". Then I feel sad for my Mom who1's only 69 and think, "she's too young to lose her husband! She has too many years left They earned their retirement!". And then I feel guilty that I'm feeling sorry for myself because at least we got him for 68 years. And they were a good 68 years. Rest in peace Pop.