I am having the hardest time starting this. I have opened my blog many times, but I simply have not been able to make myself start. Here I am already crying, and I haven't said a word of significance.
How can I possibly express how much this hurts? How can I tell you how much I love my dad, miss him and wish he were still here, but whole again--not sick or broken. How can I say how grateful I am for the gospel and as my dad says, "The Great Plan of Happiness." I think that shows how he felt about Heavenly Father's plan--it was for us, to make us happy. I'm just having a hard time being happy.
On January 12, 2009, my sweet daddy slipped away from this earth.
In December Dad needed a blood transfusion but his veins were collapsing and he couldn't accept any blood. The other option was to go through a main artery right to his heart, but that would be very dangerous because he also had congestive heart failure. I kept wanting them to just try one more time! Mom asked the doctor what he would do; his answer was that he wouldn't do it. He didn't think the risk was worth it--he could possibly not even make it through the transfusion if things went wrong. And he didn't think it would increase his quality of life very much, even if it did take. Mom had a hard decision. I think she realized that she could lose him right then, that very day if they tried again. She decided not to. Neither she nor Dad wanted to do the artery to the heart option. I think Mom knew then that Dad was not long for this earth. I know she did. She asked me to shop for a new dress for her for a funeral. That scared me.
Dad had pneumonia--I think he was sick just after Christmas, but he had a nasty cold and it just got worse. The week of January 5, Mom finally got someone to listen and give him an antibiotic and cough syrup. She told me he slept through the night and they were both finally getting some rest. We thought he was getting better.
That same weekend, Lynn and his family visited with Mom and Dad. Saturday night he told Mom to get some sleep and he'd get up with Dad--7 or 8 times that night they got up. Once Dad said he was done and simply couldn't go any further. Lynn had to grab him under the arms and drag him back to his bed. The next day he and Ron decided that something needed to be done. Mom wasn't getting any sleep and Dad was not getting better. Hospice had a 5-day stay program at a nursing care center and they decided that was a good plan. Sunday night Mom called and told me that Monday morning they were going to take Dad there. That scared me even more. I asked Mom what Dad thought about going, but she said she didn't think he was really aware of anything. She said he'd been mumbling and talking all day, but incoherently. He didn't want to be here any longer. I wonder who he was talking to, making plans for a reunion.
That night I prayed for my Dad. I had been praying that he could last just a little longer and I realized that was very selfish. I just didn't want him to go. Finally I prayed that if my dad needed to leave this earth and if Heavenly Father wanted him back home, then at least could he go peacefully? A year or so ago, I told my Mom and Dad that my wish for them, when it was time, that they would have a great day, a good meal, go to bed, have nice dreams and just never wake up. That would be so much nicer than many deaths. I just wanted peace for my Dad. I think I was finally at the point where I could say, "Thy will be done." (But please, peacefully.)
Monday morning I was making plans to have my Primary music calling taken care of so we could go see Mom and Dad the next weekend, over Martin Luther King Day. In my mind, this would probably be the last time I'd see my dad. I really thought we'd get to visit and then he would go. I got off the phone and then Ron called. It was about 10:00 a.m. He said Dad was gone. I just couldn't believe it. Ron said they put him to bed Sunday night and he just kept sleeping and sleeping. He got up several times to check on him, but Dad was asleep. He said about 5:00 a.m. he stopped by Dad's door and he could hear snoring. Then at 7:00, Mom was up and dressed and went in to check on Dad. She said she couldn't see any breathing and he was a little cool. Cool was pretty normal for Dad. She called to Ron to check, and he was gone.
Jay and Auburn were still there, so Jay got a chair for Mom so she could sit by Dad. She held his hand while Ron made the necessary phone calls. I'm so glad she wasn't there alone to deal with all of that. Mom helped get Dad dressed in clean jammies before he was taken away. She was glad to be able to do that.
Jay and Auburn drove Mom's car to my house so I could come the next day and help with arrangements. Monday I spent getting things taken care of. I got Primary arranged for, Cub Scouts on Thursday--I have a new leader who I couldn't possibly leave to do it alone. I colored my hair. I packed. I finally went shopping for a dress for Mom.
As kids arrived home from school, we gave them the news. They were sad, but they just went through this with Corky's dad two months ago. They knew the routine. It's amazing how kids think and act. Jake figured he should be able to stay home from school--they did last time, but that night we didn't get home until late and we were up late. I needed to leave in the morning and Corky needed to go to work. Kids went to school. I did toy with the idea of taking Dante and Jake, but decided against it. I'm glad. There was enough going on and we were running back and forth to the mortuary, etc. that it was a good thing they weren't there.
Monday night I wrote my Dad's obituary. I stared at the computer for the longest time. He was a wonderful man and I wanted everyone to know it. Finally I wrote and wrote, figuring Mom and Ron could delete things if it was too long. They didn't cut out anything.
Tuesday as I got ready to go, Jake finally realized that I'd be gone all week before he'd see me again. He cried and wrote me a sweet "Love you" note with a frowny face on it. He was fine by the time we got to school. I left the boys and went right to the Distribution Center to get a new white shirt, pants, necktie, socks and handkerchief for my daddy. I had bought the same things for Corky's dad. It wasn't easy either time.
I drove, I cried.
When I arrived at the house, there were people there cleaning. Why do people always go clean the house when somebody dies? I never really figured that out, but I was glad that I didn't have to do it. Maybe that's why. It's something they can do, and then you don't have to. Life is about serving others, and they were. People brought cereal and soda pop for the kids when they would arrive. There were fruit baskets, rolls, chicken soup, cakes, casseroles, visits and cards. I was amazed at the love that was shown by neighbors and people in the ward. While I was there Mom had a visit from the High Priest Group Leader and a counselor. One man talked and talked; I tried to sit and listen for a minute, but the phone kept ringing. When they were ready to leave, Richard Bevan, the Group Leader and an acquaintance of mine from High School, gave the most wonderful prayer. I bawled all the way through it. He prayed that we would all be buoyed up in our spirits and that angels would attend our home. I was truly touched by his words and spirit.
We went to the mortuary to make arrangements. The man we spoke with was Brad--he seemed a bit distant and out of his element. Then we found out he was--he came from the Pocatello office to help out because they were so busy in Twin. He made a horrible program for the funeral. The next day we met with Brett--he was wonderful. He was everything that I expected. I saw a lot of love and attention from Kirk Soffe, the funeral director for Grandad, and I guess I wanted to see if they were all like that. Brett was. He was happy that I had everything on my jump drive so they didn't have to retype--said he'd hire me. And, he said he didn't like the program either, so he started on a new one. Mom and I were happy about that. Brett was totally attentive, especially to Mom. One time we were there and she didn't want to come in, so he came out to the car and talked to us for 1/2 an hour. He held the door for her, he took her coat. Once we were walking back to the car and I started to open her door, he said, oh please Sally, let me get that. He offered options and made us feel like we were the most important people of all.
Corky was home working on a DVD of Dad pictures. He spent many hours and sleepless nights for me, for Dad, for all of us. A couple of years ago we recorded Dad doing a Maori haka and some of his little sayings--Corky put that on as background. It was wonderful to hear his voice, even unsteady.
We worked on flowers. We worked out the program. Thursday Chad's family arrived. Friday everyone else was coming, so I cooked the turkey I brought. I really didn't want to be the cook for the "crew," so I just made funeral potatoes, jello and turkey. Fend-for-yourself kind of meal.
There was a viewing Friday night--Luan and her family came during the viewing, Lynn arrived just before (with the DVD), Arlene was there earlier Friday. My family was still missing. Just at the very end of the viewing, I saw them. What a relief to see my sweetheart and my children! I was so glad to see them.
The viewing was nice. I got to see people I knew, talk with my nieces and nephews, finally meet Zuki. One man came and spoke to me and wanted to tell me how much Dad meant to him and his family. He said my dad changed their lives. Mom told me later that this family had been inactive, but Dad was their home teacher. Need more be said?
Saturday morning was another viewing and funeral. There were cousins there I haven't seen forever--Aunt Laree (Mom's sister) and her kids, Maralee, Vernon and his family. Carolyn Clawson, Uncle Jack's wife, came with her two daughters, Julie and Sally. Julie walked up to Arlene and me and said I'm Julie. I said I'm Sally. She said, no, I'm not Sally, I'm Julie. I said, I'm Sally. No, I--then she looked at me, shook her head and then realized what I was saying. Her sister Sally was right behind her. She and I both commented that we'd always thought it was so fun to have a cousin with the same name. I saw people I used to babysit for--I thought they were so old and realize now they were probably only 25-30 years old when I was babysitting. But to a 13-year old, that is old.
The funeral was wonderful. The music was perfect, the life sketch by Arlene was perfect, Ron's talk was perfect. The grandkids got up and sang "Called to Serve." A great missionary song for a great missionary. The Bishop spoke and made nice comments, and then the Stake President spoke. He spoke of Dad's love for Mom. He talked about the night they were there giving the blessings, just barely before Dad's death. He said how Dad was sick and wanted a blessing, but then he was very concerned for his wife, that she receive a blessing, too. President Allen talked about putting the chair close to Dad so that he could participate. He said that Dad's Priesthood was the presiding priesthood in that home and he wanted to exercise it. He talked about what he learned that night from Dad and Mom. I loved that.
We had sack lunches from the Relief Society since we were leaving town--it was great. Ham sandwiches, drink, chips and brownies. I drove Mom in her car to Goshen, Idaho. It was very cold outside and everything was covered in frost. It was totally breathtaking. I loved looking outside. Mom and I took deep breaths, ready for the next part. But we were not ready. She and I drove into the cemetery first. I looked over, saw my grandparents' graves and then where Dad's grave was going to be. My eyes got big and then Mom said--it's in the wrong place! I let her out and she walked over--I parked the car. She said, I know this is the wrong place. We're supposed to be right next to Mama and Daddy. I've heard that my whole life. I knew it was wrong.
So people started arriving--two very old aunties--Aunt Orilla (Dad's sister) and Aunt Joey (Mom's sister). People said, oh let Aunt Joey get over here, she'll know. I looked at them and said, why? It's not her plot and she's 91! What's she going to know about it? She didn't know.
After some fussing around and several phone calls, we finally found out that Mom does actually own that land--she has four plots when she thought she only had two. (So at least it wasn't someone else's spot. That would be great--a couple years down the road and someone else would want that place.) They just dug the whole in the furthest spot. She fussed and didn't know what to do. It was kind of funny because they had the nice chairs, the awning, the fake grass by the hole--of course. But we didn't go over there. People brought the chairs to the spot where Mom wanted Dad to be buried. So we all sat and stared at a grassy area next to the Andersen grave. Uncle Rone had reserved the Goshen church down the road and had soup and sandwiches there for us. He was anxious to get people out of the cold and to the church, but Mom didn't really want to do anything until she found out exactly what she could do. We decided we could dedicate the spot where she wanted him and then we'd move to the church and take it from there. But Ron had gone to make more phone calls. We needed to wait for him.
Finally Ron came back and said there was a sister mortuary in Pocatello--we could take Dad there, come back next week. Mom was feeling guilty and didn't want to put anyone out and was thinking that she should just use the hole that was dug. So the six of us kids pulled Mom aside and said what do you really want to do? She hemmed and hawed and I said, in five years, are you going to feel bad that Dad is over there? Where do you really want him? She took a deep breath and said, I want to be next to Mama and Daddy. We all said Yea! she felt relieved and then she cried. It was okay. We all stood around the spot where Dad would go and Chad did the dedicatory prayer. They were going to have to take Dad to Pocatello to wait until the next week when they could dig another grave. They said the ground was frozen and it would take a little time, etc.
Everyone got in their cars to go to the Church for our haka, soup and relaxation. Mom and I pulled out of the cemetery last, except for Ron and Lynn were walking with Aunt Laree to see another grandfather's grave. We got to the church, had soup, wondered what happened to Ron and Lynn. They finally came and Ron said that everything was done! While he was still there, the sexton and the man who digs the graves came to take care of the chairs and stuff, so they told them their plight. The four of them put the casket into the vault. The man dug a new grave (so the ground wasn't frozen enough to worry about) and then they pulled the vault and casket up and put it in the new grave. So after we sang "I Walked Around Charlo," did a couple of hakas, we went back to the cemetery to see the new grave. It was in the right spot. The fancy chairs, grass and awning were gone, and in their places were clumps and clods of dirt. The pall bearers tossed in their boutonnieres, we said another family prayer (not dedicating) and all threw in some dirt clods. I think Dad liked it better that way. He was definitely a dig-in-the-dirt kind of guy. It was nice. I liked it.
What a relief that it was finished. Nobody really wanted to have to take Dad to Pocatello and come again another day. I would always wonder if that was really him in there. This way we knew for sure. Ron and Lynn were there and put his casket in the vault. They saw it go in the right grave. It is hard to bury someone you love--it would be awful to have to put it off and do it all again. I know Mom was relieved, as we all were. She told me later that she felt like "Georgie was down there just telling me it was okay."
It was okay. It is okay. It's still hard and I expect it will be for quite a while. I didn't feel like I really got to grieve that whole week I was with Mom. I had to be strong for her, although I certainly shed some tears. But I think I've been crying even more this week than two weeks ago. I've gotten phone calls, emails and cards, love from people, but it still hurts. This is all-consuming.
I am so glad that I told my dad how much I love him, many times. I think he knew. I know he loved me. I am so grateful for his love, his blessings, his wisdom and guidance.
I love you, Dad.
How can I possibly express how much this hurts? How can I tell you how much I love my dad, miss him and wish he were still here, but whole again--not sick or broken. How can I say how grateful I am for the gospel and as my dad says, "The Great Plan of Happiness." I think that shows how he felt about Heavenly Father's plan--it was for us, to make us happy. I'm just having a hard time being happy.
On January 12, 2009, my sweet daddy slipped away from this earth.
In December Dad needed a blood transfusion but his veins were collapsing and he couldn't accept any blood. The other option was to go through a main artery right to his heart, but that would be very dangerous because he also had congestive heart failure. I kept wanting them to just try one more time! Mom asked the doctor what he would do; his answer was that he wouldn't do it. He didn't think the risk was worth it--he could possibly not even make it through the transfusion if things went wrong. And he didn't think it would increase his quality of life very much, even if it did take. Mom had a hard decision. I think she realized that she could lose him right then, that very day if they tried again. She decided not to. Neither she nor Dad wanted to do the artery to the heart option. I think Mom knew then that Dad was not long for this earth. I know she did. She asked me to shop for a new dress for her for a funeral. That scared me.
Dad had pneumonia--I think he was sick just after Christmas, but he had a nasty cold and it just got worse. The week of January 5, Mom finally got someone to listen and give him an antibiotic and cough syrup. She told me he slept through the night and they were both finally getting some rest. We thought he was getting better.
Saturday the 9th, the Stake President and Bishop came for a visit with Mom and Dad. Dad wanted a blessing and then he wanted them to give Mom a blessing. They pulled a chair up close to Dad so he could use his Priesthood and help give Mom the blessing. The next day in their Ward Conference, the Stake President spoke quite a bit about his visit with my parents. Mom said several people commented about it, but she wasn't sure just what was said.
That same weekend, Lynn and his family visited with Mom and Dad. Saturday night he told Mom to get some sleep and he'd get up with Dad--7 or 8 times that night they got up. Once Dad said he was done and simply couldn't go any further. Lynn had to grab him under the arms and drag him back to his bed. The next day he and Ron decided that something needed to be done. Mom wasn't getting any sleep and Dad was not getting better. Hospice had a 5-day stay program at a nursing care center and they decided that was a good plan. Sunday night Mom called and told me that Monday morning they were going to take Dad there. That scared me even more. I asked Mom what Dad thought about going, but she said she didn't think he was really aware of anything. She said he'd been mumbling and talking all day, but incoherently. He didn't want to be here any longer. I wonder who he was talking to, making plans for a reunion.
That night I prayed for my Dad. I had been praying that he could last just a little longer and I realized that was very selfish. I just didn't want him to go. Finally I prayed that if my dad needed to leave this earth and if Heavenly Father wanted him back home, then at least could he go peacefully? A year or so ago, I told my Mom and Dad that my wish for them, when it was time, that they would have a great day, a good meal, go to bed, have nice dreams and just never wake up. That would be so much nicer than many deaths. I just wanted peace for my Dad. I think I was finally at the point where I could say, "Thy will be done." (But please, peacefully.)
Monday morning I was making plans to have my Primary music calling taken care of so we could go see Mom and Dad the next weekend, over Martin Luther King Day. In my mind, this would probably be the last time I'd see my dad. I really thought we'd get to visit and then he would go. I got off the phone and then Ron called. It was about 10:00 a.m. He said Dad was gone. I just couldn't believe it. Ron said they put him to bed Sunday night and he just kept sleeping and sleeping. He got up several times to check on him, but Dad was asleep. He said about 5:00 a.m. he stopped by Dad's door and he could hear snoring. Then at 7:00, Mom was up and dressed and went in to check on Dad. She said she couldn't see any breathing and he was a little cool. Cool was pretty normal for Dad. She called to Ron to check, and he was gone.
Jay and Auburn were still there, so Jay got a chair for Mom so she could sit by Dad. She held his hand while Ron made the necessary phone calls. I'm so glad she wasn't there alone to deal with all of that. Mom helped get Dad dressed in clean jammies before he was taken away. She was glad to be able to do that.
Jay and Auburn drove Mom's car to my house so I could come the next day and help with arrangements. Monday I spent getting things taken care of. I got Primary arranged for, Cub Scouts on Thursday--I have a new leader who I couldn't possibly leave to do it alone. I colored my hair. I packed. I finally went shopping for a dress for Mom.
As kids arrived home from school, we gave them the news. They were sad, but they just went through this with Corky's dad two months ago. They knew the routine. It's amazing how kids think and act. Jake figured he should be able to stay home from school--they did last time, but that night we didn't get home until late and we were up late. I needed to leave in the morning and Corky needed to go to work. Kids went to school. I did toy with the idea of taking Dante and Jake, but decided against it. I'm glad. There was enough going on and we were running back and forth to the mortuary, etc. that it was a good thing they weren't there.
Monday night I wrote my Dad's obituary. I stared at the computer for the longest time. He was a wonderful man and I wanted everyone to know it. Finally I wrote and wrote, figuring Mom and Ron could delete things if it was too long. They didn't cut out anything.
Tuesday as I got ready to go, Jake finally realized that I'd be gone all week before he'd see me again. He cried and wrote me a sweet "Love you" note with a frowny face on it. He was fine by the time we got to school. I left the boys and went right to the Distribution Center to get a new white shirt, pants, necktie, socks and handkerchief for my daddy. I had bought the same things for Corky's dad. It wasn't easy either time.
I drove, I cried.
When I arrived at the house, there were people there cleaning. Why do people always go clean the house when somebody dies? I never really figured that out, but I was glad that I didn't have to do it. Maybe that's why. It's something they can do, and then you don't have to. Life is about serving others, and they were. People brought cereal and soda pop for the kids when they would arrive. There were fruit baskets, rolls, chicken soup, cakes, casseroles, visits and cards. I was amazed at the love that was shown by neighbors and people in the ward. While I was there Mom had a visit from the High Priest Group Leader and a counselor. One man talked and talked; I tried to sit and listen for a minute, but the phone kept ringing. When they were ready to leave, Richard Bevan, the Group Leader and an acquaintance of mine from High School, gave the most wonderful prayer. I bawled all the way through it. He prayed that we would all be buoyed up in our spirits and that angels would attend our home. I was truly touched by his words and spirit.
We went to the mortuary to make arrangements. The man we spoke with was Brad--he seemed a bit distant and out of his element. Then we found out he was--he came from the Pocatello office to help out because they were so busy in Twin. He made a horrible program for the funeral. The next day we met with Brett--he was wonderful. He was everything that I expected. I saw a lot of love and attention from Kirk Soffe, the funeral director for Grandad, and I guess I wanted to see if they were all like that. Brett was. He was happy that I had everything on my jump drive so they didn't have to retype--said he'd hire me. And, he said he didn't like the program either, so he started on a new one. Mom and I were happy about that. Brett was totally attentive, especially to Mom. One time we were there and she didn't want to come in, so he came out to the car and talked to us for 1/2 an hour. He held the door for her, he took her coat. Once we were walking back to the car and I started to open her door, he said, oh please Sally, let me get that. He offered options and made us feel like we were the most important people of all.
Corky was home working on a DVD of Dad pictures. He spent many hours and sleepless nights for me, for Dad, for all of us. A couple of years ago we recorded Dad doing a Maori haka and some of his little sayings--Corky put that on as background. It was wonderful to hear his voice, even unsteady.
We worked on flowers. We worked out the program. Thursday Chad's family arrived. Friday everyone else was coming, so I cooked the turkey I brought. I really didn't want to be the cook for the "crew," so I just made funeral potatoes, jello and turkey. Fend-for-yourself kind of meal.
There was a viewing Friday night--Luan and her family came during the viewing, Lynn arrived just before (with the DVD), Arlene was there earlier Friday. My family was still missing. Just at the very end of the viewing, I saw them. What a relief to see my sweetheart and my children! I was so glad to see them.
The viewing was nice. I got to see people I knew, talk with my nieces and nephews, finally meet Zuki. One man came and spoke to me and wanted to tell me how much Dad meant to him and his family. He said my dad changed their lives. Mom told me later that this family had been inactive, but Dad was their home teacher. Need more be said?
Saturday morning was another viewing and funeral. There were cousins there I haven't seen forever--Aunt Laree (Mom's sister) and her kids, Maralee, Vernon and his family. Carolyn Clawson, Uncle Jack's wife, came with her two daughters, Julie and Sally. Julie walked up to Arlene and me and said I'm Julie. I said I'm Sally. She said, no, I'm not Sally, I'm Julie. I said, I'm Sally. No, I--then she looked at me, shook her head and then realized what I was saying. Her sister Sally was right behind her. She and I both commented that we'd always thought it was so fun to have a cousin with the same name. I saw people I used to babysit for--I thought they were so old and realize now they were probably only 25-30 years old when I was babysitting. But to a 13-year old, that is old.
The funeral was wonderful. The music was perfect, the life sketch by Arlene was perfect, Ron's talk was perfect. The grandkids got up and sang "Called to Serve." A great missionary song for a great missionary. The Bishop spoke and made nice comments, and then the Stake President spoke. He spoke of Dad's love for Mom. He talked about the night they were there giving the blessings, just barely before Dad's death. He said how Dad was sick and wanted a blessing, but then he was very concerned for his wife, that she receive a blessing, too. President Allen talked about putting the chair close to Dad so that he could participate. He said that Dad's Priesthood was the presiding priesthood in that home and he wanted to exercise it. He talked about what he learned that night from Dad and Mom. I loved that.
We had sack lunches from the Relief Society since we were leaving town--it was great. Ham sandwiches, drink, chips and brownies. I drove Mom in her car to Goshen, Idaho. It was very cold outside and everything was covered in frost. It was totally breathtaking. I loved looking outside. Mom and I took deep breaths, ready for the next part. But we were not ready. She and I drove into the cemetery first. I looked over, saw my grandparents' graves and then where Dad's grave was going to be. My eyes got big and then Mom said--it's in the wrong place! I let her out and she walked over--I parked the car. She said, I know this is the wrong place. We're supposed to be right next to Mama and Daddy. I've heard that my whole life. I knew it was wrong.
So people started arriving--two very old aunties--Aunt Orilla (Dad's sister) and Aunt Joey (Mom's sister). People said, oh let Aunt Joey get over here, she'll know. I looked at them and said, why? It's not her plot and she's 91! What's she going to know about it? She didn't know.
After some fussing around and several phone calls, we finally found out that Mom does actually own that land--she has four plots when she thought she only had two. (So at least it wasn't someone else's spot. That would be great--a couple years down the road and someone else would want that place.) They just dug the whole in the furthest spot. She fussed and didn't know what to do. It was kind of funny because they had the nice chairs, the awning, the fake grass by the hole--of course. But we didn't go over there. People brought the chairs to the spot where Mom wanted Dad to be buried. So we all sat and stared at a grassy area next to the Andersen grave. Uncle Rone had reserved the Goshen church down the road and had soup and sandwiches there for us. He was anxious to get people out of the cold and to the church, but Mom didn't really want to do anything until she found out exactly what she could do. We decided we could dedicate the spot where she wanted him and then we'd move to the church and take it from there. But Ron had gone to make more phone calls. We needed to wait for him.
Finally Ron came back and said there was a sister mortuary in Pocatello--we could take Dad there, come back next week. Mom was feeling guilty and didn't want to put anyone out and was thinking that she should just use the hole that was dug. So the six of us kids pulled Mom aside and said what do you really want to do? She hemmed and hawed and I said, in five years, are you going to feel bad that Dad is over there? Where do you really want him? She took a deep breath and said, I want to be next to Mama and Daddy. We all said Yea! she felt relieved and then she cried. It was okay. We all stood around the spot where Dad would go and Chad did the dedicatory prayer. They were going to have to take Dad to Pocatello to wait until the next week when they could dig another grave. They said the ground was frozen and it would take a little time, etc.
Everyone got in their cars to go to the Church for our haka, soup and relaxation. Mom and I pulled out of the cemetery last, except for Ron and Lynn were walking with Aunt Laree to see another grandfather's grave. We got to the church, had soup, wondered what happened to Ron and Lynn. They finally came and Ron said that everything was done! While he was still there, the sexton and the man who digs the graves came to take care of the chairs and stuff, so they told them their plight. The four of them put the casket into the vault. The man dug a new grave (so the ground wasn't frozen enough to worry about) and then they pulled the vault and casket up and put it in the new grave. So after we sang "I Walked Around Charlo," did a couple of hakas, we went back to the cemetery to see the new grave. It was in the right spot. The fancy chairs, grass and awning were gone, and in their places were clumps and clods of dirt. The pall bearers tossed in their boutonnieres, we said another family prayer (not dedicating) and all threw in some dirt clods. I think Dad liked it better that way. He was definitely a dig-in-the-dirt kind of guy. It was nice. I liked it.
What a relief that it was finished. Nobody really wanted to have to take Dad to Pocatello and come again another day. I would always wonder if that was really him in there. This way we knew for sure. Ron and Lynn were there and put his casket in the vault. They saw it go in the right grave. It is hard to bury someone you love--it would be awful to have to put it off and do it all again. I know Mom was relieved, as we all were. She told me later that she felt like "Georgie was down there just telling me it was okay."
It was okay. It is okay. It's still hard and I expect it will be for quite a while. I didn't feel like I really got to grieve that whole week I was with Mom. I had to be strong for her, although I certainly shed some tears. But I think I've been crying even more this week than two weeks ago. I've gotten phone calls, emails and cards, love from people, but it still hurts. This is all-consuming.
I am so glad that I told my dad how much I love him, many times. I think he knew. I know he loved me. I am so grateful for his love, his blessings, his wisdom and guidance.
I love you, Dad.
3 comments:
That sure is neat to see that pic of Grandpa in the Navy. I am going to have to steal that and post it on my blog too. I hope you and the rest of the family are doing better. I know the feeling of almost loosing my Dad but I am sure it is still not the same.
Love you!
Thank you, Aunt Sally. I love you.
It's so sweet to hear about your experience again. So many little miracles happenned to make everything work out. What a blessing!
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