This post will be a little hard...but I feel I should. Here is my dad and I at my wedding. This post is mostly about the events surrounding my father's death. I wish I had room for all the funny or loving stories too, but that would be one crazy long post.
On December 3rd my father passed away. He had a heart attack and it took us all by surprise. My mom called to tell us he had collapsed and that the doctors were working on restarting his heart. He was actually already at the hospital for a unrelated CT scan. I felt that the timing had to be for a reason. What are the odds that he would have his heart attack while already at the hospital? I thought he would be fine. But still, I started looking for flights home. I figured no matter the outcome, I needed to be there. My mom called back about 30 minutes later to tell me they weren't able to help him and he had passed away. Oh the tears that followed that call.
Carson came into my room while I was crying so I told him his Grandpa had passed away. He asked "does that mean he died?" I told him yes, and then Carson joined me on the bed in a big ball of tears. He is a little tender heart. He cried for a good while with me (but like most kids, got over it 10 minutes later).
I flew home the next day and we began funeral preparations. I can't believe all the things we had to do (pick a funeral home, pick a cemetery, plan the funeral program, write the eulogy, write the obituary, etc.). My mom just kept going, checking things off the list, but I know she was hurting. It was such a comfort to be with my mom and sisters. While we were making funeral plans, I was also helping my mom to decipher her finances. My dad had mostly handled it all. I was resetting passwords and making my mom more checklists for the following month.
When I got to Spokane, I found out that my dad had actually wanted to be cremated. This really surprised me. My mom said his reasoning was 100% financial. The bishop came over and helped with the funeral preparations (a lot!). He checked on my mom the first three evenings after my father passed away. We also discussed the cremation with him. He told us the handbook says that the church does not "encourage" cremation. It also recognizes that there are some places where cremation is the only option...places where burial plots are few and far between. In the end, my mom decided not to cremate him and she hopes he's not mad at her.
I went through some major denial...I guess I still am in denial sometimes. I just kept thinking he was away or upstairs. I kept expecting him to walk into the room. When we were trying to decide on which pictures to display at the funeral, I thought "Let's just ask Dad which one he likes best." Then I remembered that wasn't possible. It was interesting how I would have a bad day and then the next day I would do okay, but one of my sisters would have a bad day. The day before the funeral was rough...the day of the funeral was really rough. The night before the funeral I felt very nervous. I think I was just nervous for what I knew I would go through. I was nervous to face reality, to see him in his casket, to go through the finality of a funeral.
The morning of the funeral was like any busy morning - getting everyone ready, loading the car, etc. We arrived at the church and went in to the viewing room. I was really feeling like I would need the viewing to help get over the denial phase. When I saw him, the first thought I had was "that's not my dad." My dad was full of life and...well, it's hard to describe. What was before me was just a body. It did help to see him though. It was hard to close the casket. The men got up to close it and I instinctively stood up to say a final goodbye. My sisters did too. We stood and looked at him one last time....with a lot of crying. My mom had a hard time with this part as well.
Before the funeral, we told Carson what the day held and let him chose what he wanted to attend. He chose to "say goodbye" to Grandpa by going in the viewing real quick. We had several talks beforehand about where Grandpa's spirit was and that this was just his body. Carson also decided to go to the grave site as well. He told me after that when he was looking at Grandpa he kept telling himself not to cry but that his tears almost burst out.
The funeral service was really nice. Karl gave the eulogy and it was perfect. The bishop and stake president both spoke and said some really nice things. I was able to see some great family friends. As we got up to leave and go to the cemetery, I looked back and saw that the room was full. The chapel was full, the overflow was full, there were chairs into the gym. The funeral was at the stake center so it is a large chapel. It was really touching. I was so touched by how many people had come to my dad's funeral.
Here are some of the displays we had at the funeral.
My dad has been officiating football since the 70's. He loves football and it was something he took up on the side. There were 30 of his fellow football officials that came to the funeral. I never really had met these men that were a huge part of my father's life. It was fun to overhear them tell some stories as they reminisced. They all called him "Scotty." It made me smile. I didn't know there were people out there that called my dad Scotty.
The graveside service was also nice, but cold! The weather in Spokane was highs in the teens that week. Camille tagged along with me and was a quiet, sleepy baby. Then we had a luncheon after. It was at the luncheon that I started to look around to see where Chloe was. I saw my aunt and cousin laughing and taking pictures of her so I knew she was up to something. Chloe had climbed up to a table and had stuck a fork in a cube of butter. She was taking bites of her "butter-on-a-fork." So gross - she is something else.
By the end, I was so emotionally exhausted. I also had a major headache from all the crying. We went home and all took naps.
Throughout this process (and still now) I was so grateful for the companionship of the Holy Ghost. I felt comforted often. I was so touched by all the people that reached out to us. I felt comfort from other's prayers. I have felt so sure of the happiness my father is now experiencing and that has been a comfort to me. I know that I will see him again one day. The sadness comes from not being able to see and talk to him now. I would have thoughts about how he won't see any of my children baptized or leave to serve a mission, but he will in a different way.
So I'm doing better now. I still cry sometimes. I still miss him terribly. When my kids do something funny, I still think, "Oh, I'll have to tell my dad about that one." Then I remember I can't and feel a wave of sadness. I know it is even harder for my mom. It is hard to lose your dad but I think it is even harder to lose your husband of 40 years.
I'm sure it will keep getting easier. While I hope to live a long happy life, I feel a little bit of anxiousness for when I can return to heaven and see my dad again.
My dad and his daughters, being a little goofy.
My dad, back in the day (he's on the left with a killer stach) with his parents and siblings. I love his little brother's afro. I wish I had more digital pictures of my dad! Time to do some scanning.
