I just lost my Dad

My brain is overcome with the myriad of memories that have flooded in since the day Daddy passed.

They have been pushing for several months, and while I managed to keep them at bay,  his passing hit me harder than I expected it to. 

The first time I met Dad, I was just a tiny girl of 6 or so. He treated me like a princess. Giving me a room of my own and even carrying me in to bed that night. He was tender and kind and in retrospect, probably terrified.

He had fallen in love with my mom, who came as a package deal with 4 tiny kids. He was the baby in his family and hadn't spent much time around small children, much less 4 at a time, all the time.

I never heard Daddy raise his voice at my mom. While he certainly struggled with us 4, he came in our lives to see broken hearts that he simply wanted to heal with love. 

Dad was so proud of all of us. He considered his step children to be his own and never treated us differently after his own biological kiddos came along.

He saw in us things we felt were routine or not worth being noticed. He struggled with many things, but love wasn't one of them. 

Mom had instilled a love of music in me from before my memory starts and Daddy nurtured it. Watching him play though the years is always something that brings a smile to my face. 

Daddy worked so hard to provide for us. I remember him doing things he really didn't want to do and wondering why. Adulthood has a funny way of showing you exactly why. 

There are so many things that I honor Daddy for. He stoic doggedness, his love for his family and music, and for his testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Several months ago, I found out that he had been sent a copy of the tape he recorded while living in Meeteetse and was thrilled when he allowed me to take it and get it converted to a digital format. I remember sitting in my husband's car just to hear our Daddy's voice in song as soon as possible. I remembered every word to every song and I'm not too proud to admit that I cried hearing every single track.

I remember being asked to sing with Daddy at his mother's funeral. I managed but I remember dreading it because anyone that knows me, knows how emotional I can be. But because of that experience, I have been able to sing at funerals where my heart was breaking, but not crying while honoring the deceased through music. Daddy gave me that.

I remember a young women's function where Daddy was asked to write a letter to me expressing his love for me. He talked about my sweet spirit and my willingness and even expertise at doing mundane household chores. 

I remember camping on the Snake River at the ranch and Daddy fishing. He was always so quiet and contemplative. I remember his laugh, especially when it was at himself. The memories that I have of the many shenanigans throughout the years are something I will treasure always. We even have pictures of several of those.

I remember, so many times, Daddy placing his hands on my head to give me a blessing, using his priesthood authority to help lift and guide me. He even held my son as a tiny human, giving Brandon a name and a blessing. While I don't remember the words,I do remember how it felt, knowing that Daddy felt it important enough to give that gift to my precious son. Daddy also participated in each of my girls baby blessings. He never wavered in what he knew to be true and right.

I remember the corned beef sandwiches, the camping trips when he played in Powell, the road trips, the moves, the late nights driving home from our shared shifts at McDonald's. I remember when he lit the sagebrush pile on fire at the site of our home in Jackson... He had saturated it with gasoline. The FWOOMP and instant ten yard leap backwards always makes me laugh. I remember watching him play with his band at the Park County Fair and being super proud to not only know him, but to be his daughter. I remember performing in the ward talent show. Our family did The Balloon Man from the Lamanite Generation. That is still a favorite piece of mine, because of that show.

I remember his tears at his Dad's funeral and wanting to ease his pain with my whole soul, but not being able to do anything. I understand that pain so much better now.

I remember when he flew to California to drive me home. I know he was uncomfortable with the whole idea, but he did it because he loved me. It was a difficult trip for me, but it is one I have never forgotten.

I know that I made many choices in life that Daddy didn't agree with, but he always loved me. 

I had decided I would remain apart from my family for the rest of my life. I broke that silence when I found out that he was being treated in less than a professional and even less than ethical manner by his medical provider. I've never regretted breaking that silence as I was able to, in a very small way, do things for him that he couldn't do for himself.

Feeling very lost after his death, I told him I needed something to focus on. The people he has put in my path to assist and educate or add into my network has been astonishing. The help that I have received helps me honor him. Even experiencing tremendous emotions that I am not sure how to process, I feel his presence and feel peace. 

Despite the many things that I find myself unable to voice, I love this man with all of my heart. I miss his presence, but I have seen, felt and heard of his influence since he left us. I know his spirit still exists and that one day, his spirit and his body will be reunited in a perfect form, in which he will never again experience physical pain.

I love you Dad. Until we meet again...