Dear Dad,
It’s been six years ago today since you left and went to the other side. I miss you and I still think about you often. Mother misses you like crazy, but I’m sure you know that. When are you coming for her? My guess is you’ll be coming soon. When she goes I will miss her too, but honestly, I’ll be so happy knowing you two are together again.
When my marriage fell apart a few years ago, I thought I was going to die of grief, and losing you and Mother was a part of that. I just couldn’t imagine not being part of your family. I’ve since come to understand that nothing breaks the bonds of love, not divorce and not death. I don’t know if you ever realized how much I needed you in the early days, have always needed you and Mother. I look back and see such a little girl. With Larry, I got the package deal! You never criticized our decision to run away and get married. Your demeanor was the exact opposite of Martin’s: kind, solid, calm under pressure, self-assured. I wish I could have been there the time he came to the house in a rage, demanding ‘his daughter’ back. My Mom to this day talks about how well you handled him, diffusing his anger while standing your ground and standing up for us, young as we were. Looking back, I realize you and Mother must have had your own concerns, your private talks, your worries, but we only knew love and support from the very first day. I always knew that I was loved and would be protected, and I was.
You know what I miss? I miss talking to Mother on the phone, knowing that you’re sitting in the bedroom on the extension phone. You never said much, but you were always there, listening, supporting us, offering a few words when they were needed.
I miss the simple family nights we used to have on Mondays, watching “Little House on the Prairie” together in the den, until President Kimball said that that wasn’t enough. Apparently, lots of LDS families were doing the same thing. We didn’t stop watching the show, but after that you and Mother made sure we had a lesson every week. Sometimes we’d have it at our new house, or over at the motel with Hal and Kathy. After they moved to California, seems like we had it at our house most of the time. We were always getting together for family night, or Sunday dinner with you and Mother, or someone’s birthday party.
Lately I’ve been reading a book called, The Five Love Languages. It’s all about the different ways people communicate and receive love. If we don’t recognize our partner’s or children’s ‘language’ we might miss out on the love they’re offering us (since people usually ‘talk’ in the way they also receive.) Well, one of my languages is “words of affirmation.” I need to hear words such as, “I love you.” Yours, on the other hand, is “acts of service” and I use the present tense because I suspect you’re still working, going about your life quietly but getting the job done. I realize now you said “I love you” every day by the things you did for us. I used to say, “I love you, Dad.” And you always used to answer in the plural, “We love you, too.”
Remember that time I got an infection beneath the skin on my face? Man, that hurt. The doctor was going to hospitalize me if it didn’t get better within 24 hours. I wasn’t worried about going to the hospital, but I was worried about having to be separated from Chantel. She was just a year old then and still nursing. I had to stop breast-feeding for a few days because the medicine they gave me was so strong. I don’t think she missed that too much because you and Mother took such good care of us. You came to the house and gave me a blessing. I remember when you left, I was lying in bed. I said “Bye” and then, as you were walking away I yelled, “Dad?” You said, “Yeah?” I could tell you had stopped in the hallway. I said, “I love you.” You paused for just a second then said, “I love you too!” It was the first time you ever said “I” instead of “We.” But then right after that you said, “We love all you girls!” And I smiled to myself. That’s always been a wonderful memory. I got well too and didn’t have to go to the hospital after all.
I never realized how hard it must have been for you and Mother when we moved away to California, until Chantel and Austin moved to Maryland. I remembered Mother writing about her own feelings when we left Idaho. We were young and had such a future. By then you and Mother must have known what I’ve since learned too—that family is the only thing that makes the future worthwhile. You and Mother always supported our decisions and helped in any way you could even if that meant leaving you. Dad, there’s no way I can express how I feel about you and what you did for our family. Without your support—emotional, financial, spiritual—there would have been no “us.”
Your legacy of always doing what needed to be done has been a powerful one. I don’t think you know that I gave the girls in Young Women a lesson once on service with you as the example, how you worked two jobs, then worked Larry’s little arms and legs—an act of faith—in spite of the fact that the doctor’s had said he’d never walk.
And remember that time we went away for a night and you agreed to milk the goats for us? To me that was an amazing act of love, because I remember when we first brought the goats home—to your house. We backed the truck into the driveway and you came outside. You looked at the goats and quietly growled only two words: “Good Hell!” You turned around and went back inside and Larry looked at me and said, “I forgot to tell you—my dad hates goats!” But that didn’t matter because he knew his dad loved him! We owe much to you, Dad.
The last time we really talked, at the cemetery in 2002, I know you were there with me, listened to every word, saw every tear. I know you’ve continued to do what I asked you to and that knowledge has given me peace and comfort. I’ll be seeing Mother soon and I’ll come see you again too. You’ve always been there for us and there’s no way to ever thank you for that except to follow your example. I guess that’s what the gospel is isn’t it? It’s all about families. Well, this is a long letter and I know you have a lot of work to do, so I'll close. Until next time then…. ‘Sis’ XO
It’s been six years ago today since you left and went to the other side. I miss you and I still think about you often. Mother misses you like crazy, but I’m sure you know that. When are you coming for her? My guess is you’ll be coming soon. When she goes I will miss her too, but honestly, I’ll be so happy knowing you two are together again.
When my marriage fell apart a few years ago, I thought I was going to die of grief, and losing you and Mother was a part of that. I just couldn’t imagine not being part of your family. I’ve since come to understand that nothing breaks the bonds of love, not divorce and not death. I don’t know if you ever realized how much I needed you in the early days, have always needed you and Mother. I look back and see such a little girl. With Larry, I got the package deal! You never criticized our decision to run away and get married. Your demeanor was the exact opposite of Martin’s: kind, solid, calm under pressure, self-assured. I wish I could have been there the time he came to the house in a rage, demanding ‘his daughter’ back. My Mom to this day talks about how well you handled him, diffusing his anger while standing your ground and standing up for us, young as we were. Looking back, I realize you and Mother must have had your own concerns, your private talks, your worries, but we only knew love and support from the very first day. I always knew that I was loved and would be protected, and I was.
You know what I miss? I miss talking to Mother on the phone, knowing that you’re sitting in the bedroom on the extension phone. You never said much, but you were always there, listening, supporting us, offering a few words when they were needed.
I miss the simple family nights we used to have on Mondays, watching “Little House on the Prairie” together in the den, until President Kimball said that that wasn’t enough. Apparently, lots of LDS families were doing the same thing. We didn’t stop watching the show, but after that you and Mother made sure we had a lesson every week. Sometimes we’d have it at our new house, or over at the motel with Hal and Kathy. After they moved to California, seems like we had it at our house most of the time. We were always getting together for family night, or Sunday dinner with you and Mother, or someone’s birthday party.
Lately I’ve been reading a book called, The Five Love Languages. It’s all about the different ways people communicate and receive love. If we don’t recognize our partner’s or children’s ‘language’ we might miss out on the love they’re offering us (since people usually ‘talk’ in the way they also receive.) Well, one of my languages is “words of affirmation.” I need to hear words such as, “I love you.” Yours, on the other hand, is “acts of service” and I use the present tense because I suspect you’re still working, going about your life quietly but getting the job done. I realize now you said “I love you” every day by the things you did for us. I used to say, “I love you, Dad.” And you always used to answer in the plural, “We love you, too.”
Remember that time I got an infection beneath the skin on my face? Man, that hurt. The doctor was going to hospitalize me if it didn’t get better within 24 hours. I wasn’t worried about going to the hospital, but I was worried about having to be separated from Chantel. She was just a year old then and still nursing. I had to stop breast-feeding for a few days because the medicine they gave me was so strong. I don’t think she missed that too much because you and Mother took such good care of us. You came to the house and gave me a blessing. I remember when you left, I was lying in bed. I said “Bye” and then, as you were walking away I yelled, “Dad?” You said, “Yeah?” I could tell you had stopped in the hallway. I said, “I love you.” You paused for just a second then said, “I love you too!” It was the first time you ever said “I” instead of “We.” But then right after that you said, “We love all you girls!” And I smiled to myself. That’s always been a wonderful memory. I got well too and didn’t have to go to the hospital after all.
I never realized how hard it must have been for you and Mother when we moved away to California, until Chantel and Austin moved to Maryland. I remembered Mother writing about her own feelings when we left Idaho. We were young and had such a future. By then you and Mother must have known what I’ve since learned too—that family is the only thing that makes the future worthwhile. You and Mother always supported our decisions and helped in any way you could even if that meant leaving you. Dad, there’s no way I can express how I feel about you and what you did for our family. Without your support—emotional, financial, spiritual—there would have been no “us.”
Your legacy of always doing what needed to be done has been a powerful one. I don’t think you know that I gave the girls in Young Women a lesson once on service with you as the example, how you worked two jobs, then worked Larry’s little arms and legs—an act of faith—in spite of the fact that the doctor’s had said he’d never walk.
And remember that time we went away for a night and you agreed to milk the goats for us? To me that was an amazing act of love, because I remember when we first brought the goats home—to your house. We backed the truck into the driveway and you came outside. You looked at the goats and quietly growled only two words: “Good Hell!” You turned around and went back inside and Larry looked at me and said, “I forgot to tell you—my dad hates goats!” But that didn’t matter because he knew his dad loved him! We owe much to you, Dad.
The last time we really talked, at the cemetery in 2002, I know you were there with me, listened to every word, saw every tear. I know you’ve continued to do what I asked you to and that knowledge has given me peace and comfort. I’ll be seeing Mother soon and I’ll come see you again too. You’ve always been there for us and there’s no way to ever thank you for that except to follow your example. I guess that’s what the gospel is isn’t it? It’s all about families. Well, this is a long letter and I know you have a lot of work to do, so I'll close. Until next time then…. ‘Sis’ XO
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