Always remembering

This is going be a little jumpy, but I don't have to time to consolidate my thoughts in a cohesive manner. Just enjoy the ride ;)

I don't think there is a day that goes by where I don't think of Dad. There are so many instances in my life that cause me to think about things Dad taught me, things I did with him, and the last day I saw him.

Every time I look at my hands and see them calloused and dirty, I think of his ever-working hands, constantly rugged from his day to day job. I look at my hands and see scars that I gained after many years of working with him and each one holds a memory.

Stake Conference was a few weekends ago and one speaker starting talking about his father and a life lesson he learned from him. I immediately could only think of the hundreds of lessons my father taught me over the years. Even if I was angry with how Dad responded to something I did or the way I was acting, he was constantly looking out for my well being and future.

When I got my wisdom teeth out, I had to be knocked out completely because they were impacted. I was doped up on drugs for many days after, only eating pudding and liquids. Even after just a couple of days of rest, Dad began asking me when I would go back to work. Dad, I explained, I'm still on meds. I'm tired and recovering. Why should I go to work when I should be resting? I will never forget his response. "If you act like you're feeling better, you'll feel better. Lying around the house won't help you as much as getting out and working." Even though I did not want to hear that it was a lesson that has stayed with me ever since.

Today is Christmas. I think back to growing up and how much I loved having Christmas as a family, eating breakfast together (Dad's AMAZING french toast) and driving around looking at Christmas lights while listening to Mannheim Steamroller. I'm spending Christmas with my in-laws in a northern GA timeshare. Today we went for a little hike and found a decent waterfall. I thought about how much dad loved going to Swallow Falls in Western MD. I can't even count how many summers we went to that campground, and we would always love looking at the falls there. I'm sure he would have liked these, even if it wasn't the same as Swallow Falls.

As a Christmas present to the readers, here are the voice mail recordings from home and his work line. Angela got them and I'm hosting them on a website that I manage.



KB Electric Voicemail



Home Voicemail

Reese's

Thinking of you today, Dad. 

today's letter to dad

Hey Dad, I saw this and I thought you'd get a huge kick out of it. I don't even usually like Pearls Before Swine.

Also, I had this whole thing with my credit card this week, where someone stole my number and charged $1,000+ at a local store, but Capital One contacted me and canceled my card and everything is well. It's the card you helped me pick out when you came to Seattle when Laurel was born, remember? It has the tulips on it? I really wanted to call you and tell you the whole story, to hear what you had to say about it. You know everything there is to know about credit cards and stuff.

Plus it's been getting really dark lately, and all those lights you put in for me in June are really coming in handy. Gosh I love them. I'm so grateful for you. I'm so so so glad you came to see me in June.

I miss you so much.

Love you, Dad,
Angela

realms unknown

I think about Dad a lot. I can't remember our last conversation, our last words. I don't know if I told him I loved him. I know he knew, but still. It's hard to have him go so suddenly.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at how hard this still is. It's been a few months... two months almost exactly. I am back in my real life but it doesn't feel real. Sometimes I just think about Dad and I'm overcome with emotion. I'll start to cry. Sometimes I'm in the car and Wesley pipes up from the backseat and says, "Mommy, are you sad Grandpa died?" It's like he knows! I guess I should be grateful that means I'm not usually sad, and if I cry it's for a dang good reason!

The part I struggle with, maybe the most, is that dying is so personal, so individual. People dying from cancer can be dying in a hospital bed, surrounded by family holding their hands. Dad didn't have that same experience. He was on his own, fighting this crazy thing happening inside his body and not being sure what was going on. I know Mom and Brad were there physically, but I imagine he was so out of sorts he didn't register that they were there supporting him. I just picture him in the back of the minivan, trying to breathe, weighing the situation.

I just keep thinking about how SCARED he must have been. Was he scared? Death was staring him in the face. I guess even the cancer patient lying in bed or the elderly person nearing the end can also feel SCARED, but I wonder what it was like for Dad. I find it funny thinking to myself that I just wish I could have been there. Maybe that would be more closure for me? Or maybe I hate that he had to go through it first. He had to pave the way. Out of our tight knit family of five, he is the only one who has experienced this.

Maybe he wasn't scared of death; I know he knew the gospel was true. Maybe instead he was scared of his body failing, or of leaving Mom behind, or of considering projects unfinished. But no matter what, he faced this thing of trepidation on his own and it happened, regardless of his fear or his readiness or his intentions.

I know his soul lives on, and I know it's all OK, and I know we're sealed forever.... but the unknown is still so scary. I suppose I haven't conquered my fear yet. I miss you Dad.

my dream

I had a dream with Dad in it not long after I got back from Maryland. I think about it a lot.

With my calling (in real life), I am in charge of the Child of Record baptisms. In my dream, it was Child of Record baptisms, and I was getting baptized -- although I'm an adult and everything. I remember in my dream coming into the church and being annoyed about the baptism since it was combined with other people and they had chosen all of the hymns and speakers, and the whole thing was not the way I would have wanted it. 

At some point I needed to go get something, like maybe the programs?, and I was walking up some stairs to a "loft" at the Church. It's not like churches have lofts, but I guess this one did... it was all white and silver, with a glass balcony overlooking whatever was below, although I didn't see what was down there. 

As I was walking up the stairs to the loft, the thought struck me that someone needed to baptize me, and my father was dead so he couldn't do it. Who would baptize me? I was stressed for a time until I headed back down the stairs and I looked up, and Dad was there. I feel like maybe Kurt was there, too, standing to Dad's right and hugging his shoulder, looking at me as if to say, "Look! it's Dad!" 

(where's my one of these, HUH? ;-)

Dad was dressed all in white. He looked the same really, and he just looked at me with his piercing blue eyes and smiled, this wonderful peaceful smile. There was a feeling of relief that someone was going to be able to baptize me, and how wonderful it could be my dad. 

I just looked in his eyes and was happy, then I woke up.

Dad was there, in my dream, in all white, serving in a spiritual capacity.

I think about this a lot. The memory is very fresh and very real, even though it happened a few weeks ago. Was it Dad? Did he appear to me? Was it just a dream? I guess I have no way of really knowing. I do know, I confess, that I've prayed to Heavenly Father that Dad can visit me again in other dreams. It was nice to feel his presence, even if it was just in a dreamland.

I'm so glad I gave him lots of big hugs when he was here in Seattle. I'm so glad he knew I loved him, and I knew he loved me.

out of time

After Dad died I went back and read our thread of Facebook chats. Dad would always say "boo" at all hours of the night, to see if I was there. Sometimes I was :-) Here was a conversation on June 25th....

Dad: boo!!
Me: Hi, I'm on my phone
Dad: yeah, so it would seem
Me: I should be sleeping. Soon. You too! How are you?
Dad: been asleep most of the evening ... got paperwork to do
Me: At 2am? Sheesh.
Dad: I don't watch the clock much. I'm awake ... got paperwork to do ... no brainer. 2 licenses to renew before the end of the month. running out of time here.

I bolded that last part. Running out of time here. We were running out of time. 

I can't believe he's gone. Every day I can't believe it.

tender mercies

I was writing in my personal journal the other day, coming home on the plane, and I started to list what I consider the "tender mercies" surrounding Dad's passing. What do I mean by that? There have been some very real realizations that have come that have brought great comfort. Elder David A. Bednar identifies the "tender mercies," described in 1 Nephi, with this: "A loving Savior was sending me a most personal and timely message of comfort and reassurance." 

This happened to us. It happened to me, and I think to Mom, in the two weeks we were together.

Of course I'm not HAPPY about Dad passing; I wasn't ready for it and I go back and forth being mad and angry about it. It's my journey along the stages of grief. Unfortunately, the final stage is acceptance... where we realize this was all part of the plan and we're somewhat able to accept that it has happened and move forward.

In considering the "plan," I've realized how, in fact, the Lord had a hand in the final months and moments of Dad's life, and for that we should be very grateful.

• I got to see Dad in June. THANK GOODNESS I got to see Dad in June. Mom & Dad had thought about coming in November or earlier, but they put off their trip and in reality, they came at the perfect time. Those memories of my dad are so fresh. Every time I turn on the light in my laundry room or the ceiling fan in my room, or I plug my phone into that cool USB plug, I think of him. I'm so glad he was here and we got to have late night talks and I heard more of his wisdom and felt his love.

• I feel like the fact that Grandma Twining died just on July 23, 2014, was a miracle in timing. Dad was able to attend the funeral -- Sidney and Kurt and cousins and Grandma and everyone (except me!) was able to attend the funeral. They all got to see Dad and touch him, hug him, look into his eyes, hear his voice, everything, merely weeks before his own passing. I feel like the timing for Grandpa going was not a coincidence. You know what? I think Dad would say the same thing. He always said there was no such thing as coincidence.

• Mom has said that Dad didn't get the chance to serve a mission in this life, and his time serving as Ward Mission Leader taught him so well how to be a missionary. Serving in that calling was literally the culminating act of his life. I imagine him on the other side, teaching people the gospel. He was such a good example of missionary work, and he believed in simple and kind acts of service. He was a great man, and I know he continues to do good.

• I think about the circumstances around Dad's death. He had made it to Atlanta, so he was in a city. He had spent the afternoon with the missionaries, just laughing and visiting and chatting. I'm so grateful that when it happened, Brad and Mom were there. They were there so 1) Dad wouldn't be alone, but also 2) each of them wouldn't be alone. Brad was there to support Mom, really. I'm so grateful Brad was there. I'm so grateful Mom wasn't alone. I know it was probably the hardest thing for Brad to do, but he did a great service to me and Kurt by being there to support Mom through this big event.

• Mom & Dad didn't have health insurance. Can you imagine what a long, drawn out disease or hospital stay or ordeal would have ended up costing them? What the fees would have taken out of the accounts Mom has left over to support her for the rest of her life? We should be grateful it was quick and sudden, because financially that is truly a blessing. Similarly, Mom had said that Dr. Merrill said it was probably relatively painless.

• Would you find it interesting that Mom had to order 15+ official copies of the death certificate, and in the State of Maryland a certified copy costs $22. Guess how much a certified copy in Georgia costs? $5. It was like Dad was looking out for Mom's bottom line all along. That amounts to a  $255 savings.

• Dad also wouldn't have wanted a huge fuss. Had he been on life support or in the hospital for ages, he just wouldn't have wanted us to agonize over it. He knew the plan, he didn't believe in coincidences. He probably was just fine about going to the next world with less pain and suffering. 

There's another quote I really love... it's by Richard C. Edgley, and here is what he says:

"There are few of us, if any, who don’t walk the refiner’s fire of adversity and despair, sometimes known to others but for many quietly hidden and privately endured. Most of the heartache, pain, and suffering we would not choose today. But we did choose. We chose when we could see the complete plan. We chose when we had a clear vision of the Savior’s rescue of us. And if our faith and understanding were as clear today as it was when we first made that choice, I believe we would choose again."

I really love this. I imagine us all in heaven in the premortal realm, and we were just happy being together, and the Lord told us that He'd need Dad back sooner rather than later. We probably weren't happy about it, we were probably surprised, but we chose anyway. I said, "OK, I'll take the 33 years I'll get, and I suppose that will have to do." I said that. I chose anyway. I chose knowing it would be this hard and this awful to lose him. Mom chose. We all chose anyway. 

That's been an interesting thought for me to have, and I wanted to share it with you, my family. I'm so grateful for the tender mercies I've seen. I really miss him. I think of Dad every day, all the time. Going back to "real life" has been hard since it's NOT my real life. My real life includes my Dad.

If you have seen other tender mercies, please share them. As much as I'm not happy about it, I believe it was part of the plan, and the Lord essentially set this up so we could be comforted.

I pray for more peace.