This is from a previous post back in 2020, but I wanted to share it again as I remember my Dad on his 96th birthday. It is always a sacred experience for me to visit his grave that is near Brigham City. I clean the headstone, trim the grass, and add some decorations. It seems appropriate that every time to go, there are cows laying in the shade of some trees right near his grave. Then I hear a meadowlark sing, (the Wyoming state bird), that is so comforting to me. I listen to Carrie Underwood sing "How Great Thou Art." I do have hope that I will see my Dad again. I've been missing him for 30 years now.
We think about them because we love them. In life and in death.We think about them because they are still a part of us. And always will be.
We think about them because the love we shared and the loss we endured have shaped us into the person we are today.
We think about them because we find it therapeutic. For our minds, for our hearts, and for our souls.
We think about them because it helps us, and we hope it will help others.
We think about them because the memories make us happy. And we need to feel that.
We think about them because they are still ours. And we are still theirs.
We think about them because we want to.
We think about them because we need to.
We carry on their legacies. We think about them because we take that responsibility seriously.
We think about them because we won’t let them be forgotten.
On May 8, 1992 I found out that Dad had a mole on his back that was an unusual size and color. He had it removed but it was not healing as quickly as it should. The biopsy confirmed it was melanoma. I was so scared. The tumor was large and deep, but I felt hopeful that the doctor had removed all the cancer cells. On June 19 Dad had to have surgery to remove more of the tumor, it went well. I talked to him after the surgery and he kept telling me all the things he was thankful for.
Dad had married Alice on July 26, 1991 and was happier than I had ever seen him. They did everything together and I was grateful he had a companion that loved him. They had dreams of serving a mission and traveling. He told me he wanted to get a camper, load it up with pork and beans, and go see the United States.
Dad’s health remained good for awhile. He felt tired and lacked the energy he once had. He had a large tumor on the back of his neck that was bothering him. He went to the doctor again in July of 1993. The cancer had also metastasized to his lungs. I thought about his beautiful blue eyes and strong hands. He taught me so much. He worked so hard and cared about others. He never said unkind words, he was a peacemaker. He was without guile. I prayed everyday for a miracle.
He had worked outside all his life as a rancher and brick mason. Back in the day there was not much emphasis placed on using sun block. Dad often wore a hat but his face and neck were always exposed to the harmful rays of the sun. Melanoma is the most serious type of skin cancer. He did start treatments of radiation and chemo but it made him so sick. He and Alice made the decision to discontinue any further treatments. As a side note his mother Edna, my beloved grandmother died of melanoma in 1984. It started with a spot on her hand and within about a month she was gone. That was the first time I experienced a broken heart.
In one of the most selfless decisions, Dad moved to Ogden with Alice on August 14. Ogden was her home for most of her life. I think he knew he didn’t have much time and he wanted her to be back in her home in Ogden where she had friends, and would be more comfortable after he was gone. I remember helping them move some of their things. Dad was so sick all he could do was sit and watch. This was so uncharacteristic of him. He could work harder than anyone I have ever known. He told me he wished he could help. That made me so sad, and I did everything I could to hold back the tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
I stayed in Ogden and during the night I could here Dad coughing. A few days later on August 16, he was admitted to the hospital. He was there for eleven days.
I have always consider it a tender mercy that Dad and Alice moved to Ogden. It was about an hour drive for me so I could visit him everyday. If he had stayed in Cheyenne, that might not have happened. I felt sad for my brothers and sister because they didn't have the precious time with him that I did. Everyday for three weeks, after I got Chris and Mark off to school, I drove to Ogden to be with my Dad. We had some wonderful moments together. We talked and laughed, and sometimes I just held his hand. Alice and I would go get Dad a treat, like a milkshake or something that sounded good to him.
Dad started retaining fluid, it was severe, and he was bleeding internally. Dad came home from the hospital on August 27 and had to return a few days later. The doctor preformed emergency surgery to help control the bleeding but it was not effective. The doctor told me Dad’s lungs were like a wet paper towels and very fragile. But we had to try and make him more comfortable. My brothers had come to visit him after the surgery on September 1. He was so sick he could barely talk, but when they arrived he sat up and they talked and laughed for hours. Roseanne arrived later that night. My brothers went home and the very next day he was barely able to eat or talk. They had given Dad morphine and we knew it wouldn’t be long. He was so brave and never complained. Around 4:00 his breathing became very labored. He would take a deep breath and it seemed like forever before he would let it out. I saw the color leave his face and at 5:45 as Alice, Roseanne and I were holding his hands, he took his last breath.
I remembering feeling like someone from the other side of the veil had come for him. I have always thought it was his mother. They had a special bond. Dad honored his mother and father all his days. We stayed in the room with him for about an hour. It was a sacred experience. It was so difficult to say good bye. I squeezed his strong hand one more time and kissed his forehead. I felt so much gratitude for having such a wonderful father. I love him so very much.
Of course there are the endless first and tough moments to get through. As children, we look forward to firsts – the first day of school, the first time to ride a bike without training wheels, the first time to go on a date, the first time to drive a car. Firsts seem happy and are something we treasure. But, somewhere along the line, we suffer a loss, and we have to adjust. And then the firsts that come can bring about a sadness that is hard to shake.
I loved going to Cheyenne to see him and it made me so heartsick that he wouldn’t be there. I didn’t really want to go to Cheyenne for quite awhile after he died. It was never the same. I would go for walk across the prairie with him and I missed that. I missed going to church with him. I missed him making dinner for us, he loved to cooked. His ham and beans and strawberry-rhubarb crisp were delicious. I missed hearing him pray. I missed him calling me Leener or Eileenie. I was sad I couldn’t call him to wish him a Happy Birthday. Almost every Sunday he would call me or I would call him. I loved when he answered the phone and I would say Hi Dad, this is Eileen. He would say, Oh Eileenie, so glad you called. For awhile after we moved to Utah we would send messages on cassette tapes back and forth to each other. I still have some of those tapes.
He would often send a hand written letter or card and I really missed that. I loved seeing his handwriting on the paper. I missed his sound advice. I missed hearing him say, I love you. I missed saying, I love you Dad.
Dad was the glue that held our family together long after he and Mom were divorced. He loved to have gatherings at his place. He would invite all his living brothers and sisters to come, his friends, and he wanted all his children there too. I cherish the memories I have of those reunions, Dad was a wonderful host.
The last few years I have felt a sadness that he never met my grandsons. I hope he got to give them a hug before they came to earth.
Dad was a fighter, but getting cancer is a whole other kind of battle. I’m so grateful for the 36 years I had with him. One time when I was visiting with Dad in the hospital, he looked at me and said, I wish God would give me two more years. He started to cry and said he was worried about Alice, and he was worried about his kids because we were worried about him. He was always thinking about others.
In truth, I think about him everyday. I have a picture of him that I see everyday. I have his belt and buckle that I see everyday. He was a good man, he always gave others the benefit of the doubt.
June 9, 2023
Happy Birthday Dad, I love you!
