My Dad

I know that I need to write every thing that has happened down, but it's hard when it's still so fresh, and emotional.  At the beginning of June my dad was riding his bike on a trail by their house in Granite Bay, and a kid cut him off.  My dad was going about 30 mph, and was thrown about 25 feet from his bike.  While he was laying there unconscious the kids took off.  Another biker who my dad had recently passed came on the scene and called 911. 
My mom in the meantime was thinking that my dad had been gone for a long time.  He had downloaded an app that tracks his ride, and location.  She noticed that it said he was at the hospital.  She assumed it was wrong and refreshed it.  He was still there.  She called down, and sure enough there was an unconscious man who had wrecked on his bike. 

She and Carrie went down there.  Carrie is the only one that lives by them, so we were just informed via text. 

He came to and it turned out that he had hit his head really hard, and had bleeding on his brain, the ball at the top of his femur was completely broken, and he had a break in his hip bone, plus 5 broken ribs. 

When my parents moved from Utah, they canceled their insurance because it was through my dad's business, and he kind of gave/sold it to Floyd. (I don't know the details. He kind of retired)  They just said it was on their to do list when things got settled down, to get insurance.  

He was in the hospital for about a week.  They put pins in his hip instead of doing a hip replacement, and the bleeding on his brain stopped, and it started getting better.  He didn't really eat the whole week in the hospital, and was really dizzy every time he got up to try to move around.  And with the pain from the broken ribs he felt like throwing up every time he'd move. 

My dad is such a worrier.  And when he heard how much they owed in medical bills he just didn't care.  He just seemed a lot more grateful for what he had, and felt more peaceful. 

When he got home from the hospital he was just so grateful for my mom.  He would tell us how great she is, and her.  He was a lot more philosophical.  In fact, so much that for a week or so she slept in another room, because she'd take care of him all day, then be up all night talking.  And just needed more sleep.

It just seemed like he was learning a lot, and it was a time when he was being prepared for something.  He was just getting so close to the spirit.  He always lived his life with an eternal perspective, but even more so after his accident.

About a month after his accident I got a text from my mom, that my dad has passed out and kind of had a seizure.  I called her, and she said he was fine.  I tried to make her feel better and said it's probably just a one time thing.  Maybe something from his brain injury, and it's just trying to heal.

She agreed, and we all went to bed.  That was a Friday, and on Sunday I was helping Asher clean his room.  I was sitting on Asher's bed while Asher vacuumed.  Matt was in Idaho helping his brother move, and I heard someone run upstairs.  I thought Matt had tricked me and came home early to surprise me.  But someone ran into Asher's room, and went into the closet.  I got scared because I couldn't tell who it was.  Then I noticed it was Carl and he was freaking out!  I had no idea what he was doing.  By the look on his face I figured he got in a car accident outside of my house and he was the only one that lived.  In a split second it was the only thing that could make sense to have him here by himself, freaking out!

He couldn't talk, he was just crying so hard!  I kept asking, "What?  What's going on?  Say something!"   Then finally he goes, "Dad died.  He died a few minutes ago, and no one can get ahold of you."

Melanie made her way in and JoyLynn was there too.  JoyLynn took all the kids downstairs, told them what happened and let us be alone in Asher's room for a little while.  It's such a weird feeling hearing those words, because you know what the words mean, but they don't fit in your head anywhere.  I just kept feeling like it just doesn't seem real. 

Matt and Kenny were in Idaho.  They brought Matt's grandma, Edie back to our house too. JoyLynn was at my house, so she kept all of my kids, I hurried and packed, then hopped in Carl and Melanie's car and headed to California.  This was all at around 5 on Sunday.

 So while we were driving out to California, Carl and Melanie, and I just talked, and talked and talked.  I don't think I would've talked so much if it were Matt and I, but it felt therapeutic to just keep talking.

I had just bought a plane ticket for Matt so he could meet up with us in California later in the month.  We were planning a trip to visit, since my dad couldn't come here. So I just switched that ticket for the next morning.  So Matt got home from Idaho at about 2 am.  Then at 8am I called him and he was just checking his luggage to come to California.  I told him that the funeral was most likely going to be on Saturday, and that we wouldn't even come home until Sunday, then asked if he wouldn't mind driving all the way back home and bringing Preston with him.  He just said, "Sure!"  Which I was so grateful for, but knew it was going to be hard to fly with Preston.  So I switched his flight to 2 o'clock that afternoon, and gave him a list of everything he'd need.  So about 15 min before his flight was about to leave he called me and told me that he left the bag with Preston's bottles, snacks and diapers in the car in long term parking.  I lied to him and told him he'd be fine, and just hurry and get on the plane.  It's hard to fly into Sacramento.  Every flight has a layover, and it just takes forever!  But that 2 o'clock flight was empty and the layover was only an hour.

He called back about 5 min. later and told me that Preston's birth certificate was in the bag too, so he couldn't make that flight.  So I switched his flight to a 3 o'clock flight.  That flight was packed, and the layover was 3 hours, and he'd be getting in at 9:45 which is 10:45 in Utah.  So Matt headed out to his truck, and accidentally hopped on an employee shuttle.  It took forever to get the bag, but he made it back and boarded the plane.  The plane left 2 hours after when I'd normally put Preston down for a second nap.

I was definitely worried about them the whole time.  I was just picturing Preston crying, and Matt sweating to death, not knowing what to do with Preston, and not wanting to annoy the other passengers.

When I picked up Matt and Preston that night, the first thing Matt said was, "It was nice having one on one time with just Preston."  I was shocked.  He was good, and happy the entire time.  We were sure that it was a tender mercy.  Preston is normally very vocal about being a tiny bit tired or hungry.  Anything really!  As soon as I put Preston in the back of the car he fell asleep, and went to right to bed when we got home.

 So when we got to my mom's house, Greg's family and Carrie's family were there.  Greg had planned a family vacation out there the week before my dad died.  So they got to spend time with him.  Carrie and my mom were so grateful to have him there. 

So on Sunday morning everyone was getting ready for church, and they all went to church.  Kyler wanted to go with Carrie's family, so he stayed home and "kicked Grandpa in the hip the whole time."  My dad sat in a recliner in the family room, and there was a couch right by him, and Kyler sat there by him, but wasn't happy unless he was touching my dad.  He said that it hurt, but was worth it, because Kyler was so happy to just be close to him.

When everyone got home from church they were making dinner, and my dad started having another seizure.  This time he didn't snap out of it.  They called 911, and were there within 3 minutes  They called 911 at 4:04.  They took over CPR, and couldn't get him breathing on his own, or his heart beating on its own.  My mom left with my dad in the ambulance, and Carrie and Greg were right behind. 

When they got to the hospital they were still trying to resuscitate him, and they sent my mom into a room with a Chaplin, and social worker.  She didn't really think anything of it.  Then the doctor finally came in, and said that they couldn't get his heart beating.  My mom goes, "Yeah, they were just pushing so hard on his chest, and he has a bunch of broken ribs..."  then the doctor said something else, my mom still didn't understand.  Then finally he goes,  "He died.  We couldn't save him." 

Greg and Carrie got there just about then.  So they went in the room to be with my dad. About a minute later the bishop walked in, and my mom, through her tears goes, "Who called you?" 

He replied, "No one."

He told me later that at 8:30 that morning, he was in meetings, and he had a strong impression that he needed to go visit Mark and Shauna Haehl.  He knew he needed to end his appointments at 3:30, because he'd need enough time to pick up his counselor.

He went by their house right after the paramedics left, and Mindi was there to tell them where everyone was.

 We just spent the next week planning the funeral and talking.  Each night we'd stay up late talking about my dad, and all the things he did.  And all the things he did pertaining to him dying.

For the last year he would ALWAYS say, "Why am I here?"  "I could do so much more good from the other side."  We'd always say, "We need you dad.  Of course there are things here for you."  The last time he said this to me he followed with, "Seriously.  You all are keeping the commandments, your families are strong in the church.  You don't NEED me.  It would just be nice to have me around."

One night when Preston was a newborn he was sitting on the couch talking to me, and asked if I was good at remembering numbers.  I said, "Yes, you can tell me a number, and I'll remember it the rest of my life."  He told me his password to a spreadsheet with all of his usernames and passwords.  He also told me ( and all the other siblings) where he hid some things that were of value.  Of course when we got there they weren't hidden there and spent the next few days searching!

We took the kids to a splash park while we were there.  It was nice to take a break from everything.

 That week after my dad died was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life.  I have never felt the spirit so strongly, and felt so much peace.  I really felt that my dad was present with us most of the time.  The first morning we were there Greg wiggled the mouse on my dad's computer and it was his last journal entry, from that Sunday. He was saying how he felt that the line between this life and the next was a really fine line. 

There were just so many times in the last year that my dad would say that he's not sure why he's here.  Then, he'd say, "Seriously, why am I here?  You kids are all doing good, really solid...."  He had me memorize an important password, told us where certain things were hidden.  I could go on and on.  There were just so many things that he did to get ready. 

On the day of the funeral the four kids spoke.  It was, needless to say, a very emotional day.  At the viewing I think we were all a little nervous, we didn't know what to expect seeing my dad's body. To me, it didn't look like him.  Although it was definitely his same hair.  It was messed up, and combed weird, so I combed it.  But it wasn't even his same scalp.  He was, in every essence, his soul.  There was a slide show playing of pictures that everyone had of my dad.  Carrie knew which songs of the Tabernacle Choir were his favorite, so those were the songs that went with the video.  It was neat to see.  What ended up happening was, a few people that were a little old sat down to watch the video, then soon, there were chairs set up in rows with people watching the video.  The viewing turned more into people watching the slide show.  It's hard to put into words, but the coffin and my dad's body were almost overlooked.  The slide show was so bright, and rich, and just showed who he was.  And it felt like he was so close. 

None of us who were speaking talked to each other about what we were talking about.  Other than the fact that I was doing his life sketch. While preparing my talk I felt really strongly that I talk mostly about his conversion.  He had written his whole conversion story about 10 years ago.  I really feel like that is such a treasure.  The man's name that converted him was Larry Wolfe.  We tried to call him a few times throughout the week, but I think we had the wrong number. While in the viewing I noticed a man in the corner.  I asked who it was and it was Larry.  I went over and talked to him, and told him that I had my dad's conversion story and asked if he wanted to read it.  He did.

Then afterwards I was asking him about his side of the story, and he ended up speaking in the funeral after my talk.  So I gave my dad's side of the story, and he did his side.  I thought that it was really neat.

The funeral and the burial were separated into 2 days.  He was buried in Geyserville, Ca. It is the little town just by Cloverdale.  A few months ago when my parents were driving home they were passing Geyserville and my dad said, "When I die I want be buried under a tree over there."  And he pointed to the side of the road. 

There was a cemetery right there, and it was perfect.  It looked just like where we lived in Cloverdale.  These pictures are of the cemetery.

When my mom and I were there a few days earlier the man showing us around told us so many of the people's names that were from Cloverdale.  Since it was such a small town we knew a lot of the names, but didn't know anybody personally.  The burial was at one, and it almost a 3 hour drive from my parents house in Granite Bay.  Matt and I rode up with Carl and Melanie, and my Mom rode up with her good friends from Alpine, that came out for the funeral.  We stopped at Z Pizza for lunch on the way up, and ended up being about a half hour late for the burial. 

At the pizza place was the happiest I had seen my mom since my dad had died. She was feeling relieved since the funeral was over, and she was honestly enjoying herself with Red and Earlene.  So none of us wanted to rush her when she was so happy. 

When we got to the cemetery there were already like 50-75 people waiting there.  Most of them were either close relatives, or people from the Cloverdale ward that we were in when we lived there.  My dad was the bishop for a few years before we moved to Utah, so he had close relationships with a lot of people. 

When we got there a few people were saying something, but I couldn't understand them.  Then my mom told me that they were saying that Verna Baker was buried right across from my dad's plot. 

Verna lived up the street from us in Cloverdale.  Where we lived there weren't any kids my age, and I would go over to Verna's house almost daily.  She would always tell me that I was more like a granddaughter to her than her own grand children.  I called her Grandma, and just loved her!  She taught me how to cross-stitch, and showed me how to embroider, and cook.  I would just sit and watch her sew, or cook, or knit, or whatever else it was that she was doing for hours!  I have so many sweet memories of her.

Her plot was the only one close by that was cemented, so Preston just hung out there when every one's arms were tired of holding him. A few people were only at the burial, but didn't make it to the funeral.

This was all our family that was there.  My 3rd cousin, Marguerite came here from France the day after my dad died.  She came to Carrie's family, and ended up being here right in the middle of everything.  She has been so sweet, and has really grown close to our families over the last few weeks.  She's been staying at our house too for the last week and a half.

This is Red and Earlene.  They are so sweet.  It was so good for my mom to be around old friends.  Old, as in long time friends!

After the burial we drove up to our old house.  Even though we usually stop by when we're up there this time felt different.  All of us kids were there, and it was fun to reminisce about all the things we remembered.  That was our back yard.  The hill was so steep that my dad had cut stairs into the hill with a pick ax.

I couldn't believe that this chicken coop was still standing!  It only looked slightly better when we left Cloverdale 20 years ago.

We were walking down the long driveway to see our hut that was made of huge oak trees that grew in a way that they made a huge umbrella, and underneath the trees were closed in and we'd put plays on for all the neighbors when we were little.

When we were on the driveway walking down Carl wanted to look and see if the whole to the center of the earth that he started a long time ago was still there.  Sure enough, there it was!

This is by the driveway, and we even took family pictures here when I was 10 or 11.

This is the a part of the hut, someone cut back all the trees that enclosed the hut.

Preston was so sweet while we were there.  He had his hand on Matt's shoulder for like 5 min.

We missed the kids so much!  I was so glad that we were able to leave them.  We just all stayed up late talking about my dad, and memories, and things that he did that were funny, or "just him".  There were a lot of times I would've loved to have them there, but we will be going out to visit in a few weeks, so I'm looking forward to that.

The hardest thing since we've been home has been feeling helpless.  My mom is in her big house all by herself, and when she's having a hard day, or time we're so far away.  I'll feel a lot better when she's here, or we're there.

I just want her to be happy, and am willing to do anything that can help her, or make her feel any amount of happiness or peace.  I'm sure I'll be loading up the kids and doing the drive a lot more than I expected to do! I'm really going to miss my dad.  I'm going to miss my parents together, and just the time I'd spend with him. 

A few months ago when my parents were out visiting I wanted to go on a bike ride with my dad, but I had to hurry home because Carrie was watching my kids, and was hungry so she kept telling me to hurry so she could go get Cafe Rio. So I was trying to hurry my dad, and when we got his bike out of the shed, the tires were flat, the pedals were missing, there wasn't a little fanny pack thing that goes under the seat with an extra tube and CO2 cartridge.  After threatening to leave him and telling him to hurry a thousand times we finally got out on a ride. 

He kept saying the same things he'd always say.  Why do you want to ride with me?  You just want to go fast and leave me behind. Then once we were out for a while we were riding close to each other, and I just had this feeling like I needed to tell him what I was thinking.  So I told him that I love riding with him, and out of everything to do in the world this was my favorite thing.  I loved spending time with him, and loved going out on rides with him. 

In high school he and I would go running together on the canal trail in American Fork-Lehi.  In college we played tennis together.  Then when I got married we rode our bikes together.  Those are my best memories I have with him.  On Saturdays we'd go down to BYU and play tennis for hours.  He could always run longer, play longer and ride longer than I could.  No matter what shape he was in, or I was in.  I have always looked up to him and already miss him so much.

My birthday was a couple days ago, and I picked up my phone about 3 times to call him and tell him that this was the first birthday in years that he has missed going on a bike ride with me. 

I know he's happy, and has said countless times that he could do more and better from the other side.  So now I guess our thing that we will be doing together will be family history and temple work. He did so much, but still has so much more to do on his side of the family. So when the summer winds down, I am going to figure out what he's done, and start working on that.

I will definitely miss his costumes each year!