My heart is breaking, even though I know Dad was finished here. He was tired, he was sick, and he was homesick for his parents. It has been so long since he's seen his mother--I know he was ready to be with her again. I hope he is having a wonderful reunion. I had the privilege to write his obituary, with comments added from Mom and Ron. How do you sum up a person's life? I tried to put in a little bit of all the things I remembered about him, but there was so much left out. There are so many things I didn't know. But I do know that my dad loved me. I know he was proud of me. I know he loved the Savior and that he always wanted to teach the gospel because of that love. I know he's in a better place than he was here.
Dad you taught me to never be ashamed of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You taught me to stand up and speak proudly of what I believe. You taught me important things in life--love, education, mission, family, temple work. You loved to laugh and be happy. You always wanted others to be happy, to enjoy themselves and to be comfortable.
Thank you Dad. I miss you so much.
This is a blog I wrote on December 23, 2008. I just copied it right from my blogspot. They are good memories.
This is how I remember my dad. I remember fishing with him, wading in the water, hooking the worms, and calmly waiting. I loved fishing with my dad, maybe partly because my sisters didn't. I think Arlene didn't like the worms and I'm not sure why Luan didn't like going. Perhaps she was just old enough to want to do "girl" things, and this wasn't. Maybe I was just young enough that I didn't care about those things. But I did like being there with my dad. This picture shows Corky, Taylor, Simona and Dante fishing with Grandpa. When my kids were little, Grandpa would load up the fishing gear and head down the canyon--there was place where you could fish without a license and just pay by the pound. We did a lot of fishing there. Later that place closed, but Grandpa took us to the fish hatchery--I believe this picture was taken there. I have a lot of "Grandpa fishing" with my kids. Taylor and Simona remember fishing with him, but I don't think Dante does. I'm not sure Jake ever got to go, so that's not one of his memories, but it's something I certainly remember.
I remember Dad had a friend who would come fishing with us once or twice in the summer, and he'd bring his two grandsons. I went with them a couple of years, but one year I decided against it. I think that was year I decided I needed to do "girl" things. I wished all day long I had gone. I've always been sorry I didn't go; I missed an opportunity to be with my dad.
I remember going to Alturas Lake in the summer and fishing. I can feel the water lapping around my legs now. We had to stand quietly, or we'd scare the fish. I loved Alturas Lake and have such great memories of that place. There were a couple of different spots on the lake where Dad liked to fish. When too many other fishermen came, we would move. I loved catching a fish; I even loved cleaning the fish. Yeah, yeah, that's kind of gross, but I did. Again, maybe it was because my sisters didn't like to clean them. I always did want to be a little different than everyone else.
I remember getting up very early on opening day of fishing season. It was probably 3 or 4 o'clock--a.m. I remember driving, snacking, sleeping in the car, just waiting for the right spot. I never could figure out how Dad knew where that spot was, but he always did. Stopping under a viaduct didn't seem like the right place to me, but he knew where the fish were. Of course, he always had a can of corn at his disposal, ready for chumming (which I found out later was illegal). But hey, it attracted the fish. Wasn't that what it was all about?
On the way home (or depending on the time of day, it could have been on the way there), we would stop, I think in Shoshone, for a black raspberry malt. Maybe that's why I went? I still choose black raspberry malts; not sure if they're even my favorite, but they remind me of my dad.
After I was married, Corky and I went fishing with Dad (we even got a malt). I remember we stood in the stream on one side of a fence, clearly posted "No Trespassing." Dad cast his line over the fence. He figured we weren't trespassing as long as we stayed standing on the right side. Corky groaned and rolled his eyes, but he chuckles about it now. That was my dad.
I remember Dad had a friend who would come fishing with us once or twice in the summer, and he'd bring his two grandsons. I went with them a couple of years, but one year I decided against it. I think that was year I decided I needed to do "girl" things. I wished all day long I had gone. I've always been sorry I didn't go; I missed an opportunity to be with my dad.
I remember going to Alturas Lake in the summer and fishing. I can feel the water lapping around my legs now. We had to stand quietly, or we'd scare the fish. I loved Alturas Lake and have such great memories of that place. There were a couple of different spots on the lake where Dad liked to fish. When too many other fishermen came, we would move. I loved catching a fish; I even loved cleaning the fish. Yeah, yeah, that's kind of gross, but I did. Again, maybe it was because my sisters didn't like to clean them. I always did want to be a little different than everyone else.
I remember getting up very early on opening day of fishing season. It was probably 3 or 4 o'clock--a.m. I remember driving, snacking, sleeping in the car, just waiting for the right spot. I never could figure out how Dad knew where that spot was, but he always did. Stopping under a viaduct didn't seem like the right place to me, but he knew where the fish were. Of course, he always had a can of corn at his disposal, ready for chumming (which I found out later was illegal). But hey, it attracted the fish. Wasn't that what it was all about?
On the way home (or depending on the time of day, it could have been on the way there), we would stop, I think in Shoshone, for a black raspberry malt. Maybe that's why I went? I still choose black raspberry malts; not sure if they're even my favorite, but they remind me of my dad.
After I was married, Corky and I went fishing with Dad (we even got a malt). I remember we stood in the stream on one side of a fence, clearly posted "No Trespassing." Dad cast his line over the fence. He figured we weren't trespassing as long as we stayed standing on the right side. Corky groaned and rolled his eyes, but he chuckles about it now. That was my dad.
This is Dad's 8th grade graduation picture. He is in the front row. Can you spot him? What a cute boy!
And here's my sweet dad at my wedding. We were standing outside the temple, waiting for our turn for pictures. Isn't he cute? I have to say I have a wonderful dad. I love him. He has always been good to me. Certainly I can think of times when I was mad at him, but generally that was because of me, not him! I know this was a very happy day--I think for Dad as well as for me. Before I was married, I'd meet my dad in Logan and we'd go through a temple session together. We'd get inside and Dad would always say, "Do you have a spare groom hanging around?" I think he was worried that my prince charming would never show up. Luckily for all of us, he did.
1 comment:
You have a beautiful way of putting your memories in to words. I'm crying and I only met your father once, but I know he was a great man because he raised such a wonderful daughter.
Thanks for being such a good friend Sally!
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