Tonight as I sit and think about the past 45 years with you, I realized that you never told me no. Every time I would ask you permission to do something your response was, "I guess that's okay" or "Well, you better ask your mother." Today when I took you to Deseret Book, I had no idea that would be the last time I took you for an errand. I thought we had a lot more time together, even though your health has not been the greatest these last few years.
As I started telling the kids stories, Tommy said, "Mom, you are getting old because your hair is turning gray and you are telling stories." I laughed, and I am sure you laughed too because I know that you are watching us from heaven.
I hope you know how much I loved you, and how much my four kids loved you. I remember sitting with you on the floor of our living room as you read Beatrix Potter books to me out loud in the first grade. I remember you coming in to a parent/teacher night in first grade, and we got to take in those books that came with the records to share with our class, and I had taken in Pete's Dragon to share. You pointed to it and asked, "Who does that belong to?" with a big smile on your face because you knew that I was the one who had taken it in.
I remember every clogging performance that you were there for me. When I went to Ricks the first year of college and I cut my long hair just to my waist, you cried and said, "Oh, Sis! Not your hair." I cried too because I knew that you loved my hair, but you loved me more. I remember calling you that first day back from Christmas break and asking you if I could travel with the folk dance team to France and Spain that year. You didn't say no; you asked how much it would cost, and then you said, "You better ask your mother."
That same year when I came home from college, and I had friends who called me on weekends to go dancing at 10 PM, you never said no. You simply asked who I was going with, and then when I said, "It's with Wade, Jon, Nancy, and Becky" you said, "I guess that will be okay." You accepted my friends, and you never made me feel bad for who I hung out with. I remember the day that Mike Hatch came over in high school, and he wanted to impress me by riding your motorcycle that was way too heavy for him, and you tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He crashed into Joan and Gene's fence, and you were definitely more worried about him than you were the motorcycle. You accepted that I was dating Mike, and I know that you didn't necessarily like that I had a boyfriend at that age, but you never got mad at me or forbid me from going around him. You welcomed him into our house just like he was one of our own.
I also remember the time that I wrecked the car when you and Mom had gone somewhere for the day. I had been at clogging, and I backed into a truck. The tail lights of the Dodge Aspen were broken out and the back was dented in, but you didn't get mad. You said, "Oh, that's something we can fix."
You bought that 1977 Dodge Aspen for me and LaRayne to share, and you did all you could to make sure it was reliable for us. I remember the night that I took Kirk Young to a dance, and when we came out the car wouldn't start. I called you, and you came and took home the six of us in our group in our Chevy Citation. You didn't complain about the fact that it was after 11 PM, and you could have been in bed. You just came and took us all home with no questions asked. The next day we went and got the car, and you taught me the trick to make it run again if it wouldn't start.
I remember begging you to go on the Deer Hunt with you and Willie and Joe. I had no idea how to shoot a gun, but you let me go. I begged you to take me on a horse ride up to Timpanookie because you had taken Joe and the grandsons, and I wanted a day just with you and me. You took me, and you made sure that "Old Bo" never once got startled, and it was one of the best days of my life! My butt was super sore after because I had never ridden for that long, but you made sure I had a good time.
I remember telling you that I wanted to serve a mission, and you supported me 100%. You were there with Joe, LaRayne, and I on the day that we all went to the Provo Temple and we received our endowments together. It was such a great day because we were all there (all five of your kids), and your Uncle Glen was one of the officiators that day. He joined us in the Celestial room afterwards, and the feeling of love I felt that day was unforgettable. When I left on my mission, I looked forward to getting those letters from you every week, and I'm so grateful now that I have them in my journal so I can share them with my children.
I remember telling you that Victor and I were engaged, and you didn't blink an eye. It was the worst day I could have chosen to tell you since it was the day that Grandma Ruby passed away, but you accepted my decision and never questioned it. You were there with us at the Salt Lake Temple when we were sealed, and you were there with me for every major event after that. You were there on the day I graduated from BYU with my Bachelor's degree, and the day that I told you I was expecting Rachel Amanda. My favorite though was when I called you from the hospital after she was born, and I said, "It's a girl." You replied with a laugh and said, "April Fools!" and I had to tell you no it wasn't a joke. You took each one of my kids and you raised them as if they were your own. You never were upset that you and Mom took them while I taught full time.
The year that Rachel turned three you broke your hip while playing soccer with her in your front yard. You were 71 years old, and Victor and I had left the kids with you so we could move into the house down the road from you and Mom. You didn't complain about the pain, and you still were willing to play with all of the grandkids when you came over.
I remember the first time we went to Disneyland, and you skipped with us through the park. I clung to you as we rode on Thunder Mountain Railroad, and I thought we were going to fall out. You were laughing, and you were having the time of your life. Each time we went to the ocean you told me about your trip to Portland and the big beautiful ships you saw come into port when you went there.
Dad, you taught me to love John Wayne and all things country. I still won't watch The Cowboys because it makes me cry, and I hate movies that John Wayne dies in. I love The Quiet Man and Hatari and El Dorado and so many other John Wayne movies because of you. I remember on my mission we went to dinner at an elderly couple's home in Hayward, and he had a life-size cardboard cut out of John Wayne. He was going to send it to you, but Mom told me not to let him because we didn't have anywhere to put it at home.
Dad, I'm going to miss you, and I'm going to miss you calling me to take you on errands. I never minded taking you, and I am so grateful that you and Mom allowed me to build next door to you so we could be close for the past eight years. My children love you so much, and I love you so much! I don't know what I am going to do without you. I know that you are in a better place, and I know you are with your loved ones, but I'm going to miss you. Please know that I will always love you, and I am so grateful for all that you taught me and did for me and our family. If I could go back in time, I would just so I could go into the store with you this afternoon instead of sending you in by yourself. That is my only regret. I feel so bad that I wasn't there next to you when you passed out. I know I can't change it, and I know you wouldn't want me to feel badly, but I do.
I love you, Dad, and I look forward to the time we will be together again!
No comments:
Post a Comment