Thirty Minutes

Today I suggested the kids each spend a half an hour with Becca to do whatever they wanted to. I gave them ideas like reading to her, listening to music, playing with toys, singing to her... whatever they wanted.

Emily jumped to volunteer first! She brought up her dolls and played dress up with them and Becca. She brought up Becca's doll and laid it beside her and I could hear her from the other room giving Becca a play by play as she talked to her and dressed their dolls. She also painted her nails. And we all know that if you paint your sister's nails, you simply must paint your own nails afterwards!

Landon decided to start off reading a book, did a puppet show and finished with a game of pillow monster. As near as I could tell, the last one involved flying pillows. :D

First, I caught Ethan licking the window screens. And then he drew her a picture.

After lunch, Gracie read Becca a story with really great voices. She had to fight off the boys because she sounded so fun in there! Then she painted her toes.

I thought this idea would come across more as coercion, but they definitely made it their own! They were excited to do it and really had fun. All of them, except the youngest, said their time with her flew by and didn't feel like "a whole half an hour!" I'm very proud of them and I hope this becomes a regular thing even when it's not my idea. 

Summertime Goals

Fix Becca's hair every day

How: I will not fix my own hair until she is dressed and her hair fixed.

Document: I will post pics on the blog weekly of my favorites.

Always laying on or leaning against something rats up Becca's hair. She hates having it brushed and fixed when I have to brush out the tangles, so I have been known to give her days off. This doesn't do anybody any favors and every teen age girl deserves to look her best every day. 

Rearrange my Bedroom

How: De-clutter and get rid of stuff so we can walk in there. Laundry closer to the closet and the bathroom and TV at an angle that doesn't crick my neck... yeah, yeah, first world problems, I know.

Document: Nobody needs to see pics, I'll just live in a nicer space and be content.

Rhubarb Pie

Just YUM! 

My current Work In Progress finished and sent off

How: Rough draft done by my Mom's birthday. An edit or two and send. it. off.

Document: Maybe I'll brag on Facebook here and there about how far I am.

A yard Larry would be proud of

- Healthy raspberries

- Prune the behemoth tree in the back

- Work on the lilac hedge

- Something needs to be done about the corner garden in the front... prune roses, possibly get rid of the huge pines and replace with something pretty and ornamental.

- Keep up on the front flower bed. Peonies. Holly hocks. More perennials.

- Dream about things like flower boxes on the bedroom windows and pavers around the window wells.

GO and do something fun at least once a week

Last year, between Becca's needs and the potty training needs of others, we didn't go very many places. I would go days without really leaving the house or our yard. This year will not be like last year. Even if we walk down the park a few times a week, we need to get out. I'd really like to actually go places, though. We have a Thanksgiving Point pass and the Pass of All Passes and my girls are old enough to be great helpers in public. This goal is for my own protection and the sanity of us all! 

Goals are due before the first day of school this Fall.

Last night I submitted a book to Covenant

Geoff was actually the one that clicked "send" after checking off all of the figurative check boxes for submitting a book to Covenant Publishing. I have had so many ups and downs with this project. That's an understatement. Before I tell you about the publishing thing, I need to tell you about the finishing thing.

One evening not very long ago, I was planning to sit down and write after tucking my kids into bed. I had this fun story about a fairy born without wings that I was totally enamored with and I loved working on it. Instead, I found myself pacing around the living room upstairs (the computer is downstairs) wondering what was wrong with me. My head is always exploding with ideas, descriptions of things, fun phrases and ways to say things that are unique to me. That wasn't the problem. After pacing and even hitting my knees and praying, it finally dawns on me that I'm terrified of finishing my own book. I can't come up with a good ending and I can't ever seem to feel like it's good enough because then it will be over. I'll have to stop writing about Avia and her friends solving this particular conundrum. I'll have to send it off to some faceless person behind a desk somewhere with a little plaque that says "Publisher" on it.

So, my rational self steps up to my terrified irrational self and says simply, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"The publisher won't like it!" says Irrational.

"So what?" Rational shrugs.

"I'm not successful if I don't get it published." Irrational says, leaning forward into Rational's face.

"Who says?" Rational puts her hands in her pockets.

Irrational thinks for a minute before responding, "Everyone! Everyone says that! I'm not a real author if I don't... you know, publish something."

"Do you enjoy working on it?" Rational's steady gaze is in high contrast to Irrational's frantic pacing and arm waving.

"Heck yes I do!" Irrational yells.

"Well, then instead of finishing it for that faceless publisher, why don't you finish it for yourself? Why don't you promise me, your more rational self, that you'll finish this one instead of playing with it forever? Why don't you figure out an ending and finish it just for me? What would be the worst thing about that?" Rational folds her arms and waits patiently, gazing steadily at Irrational.

Irrational sits back and strokes her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I can't think about anything bad about that. I mean, that would be great! I certainly don't care about what anyone else thinks when I first write something. I write what I love and what I would do in that situation and what I would like to say on the subject." Suddenly she looks up, her eyes shining. "I could do that. I could write it for me. If some publisher likes it, great, but I'll already know I love it."

And that is about the point that I walked myself downstairs and got serious about a good ending to my book. Some of those comments were, of course, said by real people. SO many people have encouraged me and rooted for me and "liked" my silly status updates on Facebook. It has been an incredibly amazing journey and I'm only a few short steps in!

So, when I hit "send" last night and sent off my very first manuscript to a publisher, I expected to feel giddy and elated and manically happy. Instead, I felt so much peace. I had promised myself I would do this and I came through. I didn't back burner myself this time. I didn't ignore or put myself off. I actually finished something, such as it is, and put it out in the world to see what happens.

I can't say that I won't be disappointed if I don't get published. But I won't be devastated. I still did something big and hard and I can keep trying. High five, Self! You did it!

(This is an early version of my main character, Avia, that Emily drew for me. I wrote this as much for my daughters as I did for myself. This was back when we were talking about how she would get herself around the forest without flying. :) )

From your U.S. penpals!

When Becca was about 18 months old, I happened upon what was then called a listserve for CMV. At the time, you could write an email and it would be sent to everyone on the listserve. It was a great way to be connected to other families going through the same things we were. Since then, it has evolved and mostly resides on Facebook right now. I have made so many treasured friends over the years. One of those is Debra who lives over the Pond. I would give almost anything to be able to travel and meet her and give her a great big hug. My kids hear me pray for her and her family and they have taken it up, too.The rest of this post is for her and her family, though you're welcome to a peek.

Dear Debra,
I showed my kids pictures of your kids and you can tell what they found most interesting. ;) The pink violin was a pretty big hit. :) We hope these pictures make you smile. We like knowing other families who are going through the same things we are. Becca is the oldest in our family, just like Hyrum. My girls are so glad to have each other for sisters and my boys have been a fun addition. We just wanted you to know that we are thinking of you and pray for Hyrum's continued improvement, comfort and well-being every day! Without further adieu, here are my little artists and what they have to say about what they drew for their new friends. ;)

Much Love,
Diana

From Ethan, 3 years old:

I asked him what it is and he said it is a circle. :)

"I drawed for him a snake."

From Landon, 5 years old: 

"Hi, Abby! I drew your pink violin. I just hope you like it."

"I drew Bobble from the Tinkerbell movie. He's in his house that's a tree. Also there's a rose (in the middle) and a butterfly and a rainbow and also the moon."

"I hope you like your picture of you watching your movie."

Gracie, 8 years old:

"Cool violin!"

"I like the muppets, too. Becca loves music and I like it, too."

"Roses for Rose." :)

Emily, 10 years old:

"I drew this for you because my Mom told me that you liked Muppets and Disney characters."

"I drew this for you because I thought you would like all of the colors and hearts and stuff. I also drew the violin and music box because I knew you liked music. I know how it feels to have someone like Hyrum in your family. They know you love them a whole, whole bunch even if they don't say it back. Hang in there!"

"I drew this fairy as you because my Mom is writing a story about a fairy and I really liked that story. I drew the rose to look like her house. I also drew a river and a walnut boat in the corner." :)

Love,

Your US penpals!

Becca's Story a.k.a. I Should Have Typed This Up a Looooong Time Ago! a.k.a. The Really Long Version

My first pregnancy started just as my college career ended. I was barely pregnant when I graduated with my Bachelor's Degree in Family and Consumer Sciences. In fact, I didn't even know yet. I didn't take the test until after we came home from a friend's wedding where we saw a lot of family because I didn't want to have to not tell them. I was super duper sick for most of Becca's pregnancy. We had neighbors that smoked (they weren't allowed to, we lived in student housing at USU) and my allergies flared and it was quite a miserable summer. If I showed active CMV symptoms, it would have been hard to tell them apart from everything else.

Our very old school OB (he had delivered my husband's older brother) didn't do ultrasounds himself. He had someone come in and you could sign up to get one. So, he does one and as he's measuring and he says that his machine must be off and that we should go to the local hospital and get an ultrasound there. At the Logan Hospital, weirdly, their machine's measurements were off, too, and we were sent to Ogden to McKay Dee Hospital. At this point, I started to freak out. I was so completely nervous, I couldn't think straight. Of course the ultrasound tech can't say a thing and so we waited for the Radiologist. He was a smallish, brownish man with glasses. He wheeled his stool over in front of me and looked me square in the face. He said something like this, "Something is wrong with your baby. Her brain is too small and there are some other problems. Are you going to abort this baby?" After a very strong NO from us, he continued to outline the damage that he saw and then he said something that got me through the rest of my pregnancy, "She is the same baby you walked in here with." There was nothing to do, but wait until she was born. I was already in love with her, I couldn't deny that. I continued to talk to her and sew for her and picture her in my mind. Disability and viruses didn't cross my mind. She continued to grow on her own curve. She would do this thing where she would stretch out really, really hard, like board stiff and then relax back. Looking back, I'm pretty sure those were seizures.

I had some really strong Braxton-Hicks contractions the night before she was due. I remember thinking that I would try and go to sleep and if I could sleep through them, they probably weren't real ones. I was rather disappointed to wake up the next morning without having gone to the hospital during the night. The next day was her due date, January 12th. That night, I had really strong Braxton-Hicks again and went to bed, again, hoping to be woken up. Around 4 in the morning, I woke up because it hurt and I got up and walked 3 steps to our living room without waking up Geoff. I drank something, ate something and turned on a movie on our teensy TV. Around 6 am, I woke Geoff up. We wrote down contractions and finally went in. She was born around 9:30 am, January 13, 2000 weighing one ounce shy of 8 pounds! A really good weight for a first full-term baby. She'd had a little bit of meconium, but otherwise wasn't under any stress at all. Her small head had made for a very quick labor and the doctor, who had attached a vacuum, couldn't get it off fast enough as she came out in such a hurry!

She was so tiny. So soft. So pink. So perfect. She had fuzzy dark hair and long, skinny fingers.

The nurses got after me the second night because she came back to the nursery too cold. I had to unwrap her and play with her toes to get her to eat. She was such a sleepy eater. The morning we were supposed to go home, I woke up and asked them to bring her to me. They didn't. I waited. I asked again. I waited some more. They finally told me they'd had to put her on oxygen the night before because she couldn't keep her sats up on her own. When Geoff got there and we finally got to go down to the Nursery, she was in a head box. Meaning there was a plexi glass box over her head with a higher concentration of oxygen swirling around in it. They don't usually do this anymore because it can damage the baby's eyes. They kept her a couple of extra days in the Logan hospital because she just couldn't keep her oxygen up. Walking out of that hospital was one of the hardest things I had ever had to do. I didn't get to ride in a wheelchair holding my brand new baby. I walked out, leaving her behind.

After a few days with no changes, they decided to send her up to Primary Children's Medical Center. She rode in an ambulance early in the morning and we followed in our car a little later. My eyes were wet most of that ride thinking of her in a big scary ambulance without me. When we got to Primary's she was finished being checked and she was squeaking as the nurse was doing something for her. She had this little squeaky high pitched cry. I went over (after endlessly scrubbing up) and talked to her and tried to comfort her. When I reached down to stroke a wiggly foot, the nurse told me I was touching her wrong. I immediately stepped back and sat down in the nearby rocking chair and bawled. I didn't want to cry in front of someone I didn't know who was touching MY baby, but telling me not to, but I couldn't help it! She tried to explain to me why she'd said that and how to firmly, gently touch her, but I really felt like the peon at that point.

We got to hold her a lot while we were there. She wasn't there to "fix" anything, they were just trying to figure out why she couldn't breathe the same air we did and keep the oxygen in her blood at high enough levels. IVs changed sites every couple of days and the worst one was the one they started in her head at her temple. She took my milk well, always from a bottle. She had plenty of wet and poopy diapers. She just couldn't seem to get the hang of breathing consistently.

We were only at Primary's for a total of one week. Sometime in the middle of that week, after looking at an ultrasound they had done of her brain through her soft spot, the nurses were encouraged to get a urine sample to grow a culture from to test for some things. They also re-moistened her umbilical cord and took blood samples from there. We were then informed that she tested positive for a virus called Cytomegalovirus and that that is likely what had caused her brain damage. The spaces in your brain are called ventricles, they're supposed to be there. Becca's ventricles were enlarged, meaning extra fluid and less brain matter. Also, the left side of her brain is smoother than the right side. She also does not have a corpus collosum. There were also little white dots on the pictures they showed us that showed calcifications, or where the brain tried to heal itself and left little calcium deposits behind. Her brain was damaged quite severely, but nobody ever said it that way. The wonderful neurologist we were put in touch with just happened to have been studying CMV for nearly 20 years. He gave us a pamphlet or two and told us what to watch for (hearing loss, Cerebral Palsy, vision loss, etc.) and gave us an optimistic, "We'll just have to wait and see what she can do!" I have been forever grateful to him.

The night before we were supposed to go home, a child came in during the middle of hte night with a mysterious illness. By the next morning, he was found to have RSV and all of the babies in Becca's little corner had been exposed! She tested negative and we were able to take her home to Logan, but the next day at the doctor's check-up, she turned blue in his office and we were admitted to the Logan hospital with RSV. Geoff was able to go to classes, having only missed a day or two, so it was somewhat of a blessing. He would drop me off at the hospital, go to class and come get me when he was done. Here, she was still on oxygen (a cannula in her nose) and breathing treatments (nebulizer). After a week, she came home for good, but still on oxygen. We hooked her up to an apnea monitor and oximeter at night to keep her breathing and measure the oxygen in her blood. We kept people away even though I had contracted RSV, too and sounded like I was coughing up a lung!

She got her first hearing aid at 3 months old. They used to do hearing tests in a modified picnic cooler. We had this incredibly nice audiologist (whose picture was in the Ensign one time) whose voice Becca really liked. He was the one talking when he first turned on the hearing aid and my beautiful little 3 month old turned towards his voice! And then when I started talking, she turned right towards me! Miraculous! We used to lose it all the time on account of how tiny it was and we had chosen a clear ear mold. After that, we always chose fun colors! At around a year, we tried another hearing aid in her other ear and glasses. She wore the glasses okay, but it was always so hard to tell if they did her any good. She rarely made eye contact and it always looked like it was a huge effort for her to focus in on anything. Around the 18 month old mark, I finally asked the Pediatrician if she had Cerebral Palsy. She not only wasn't walking, she wasn't sitting or even rolling over. He said yes and that it was there in her file, but nobody had ever said anything.

We had Early Intervention pretty much from the beginning. The regular BabyWatch program came to visit me after she was born and when things weren't following a "normal" schedule, we got set up with a Physical Therapist, Occupational Therapist, Vision Therapist and Hearing Therapist. I had people coming to our tiny student apartment nearly every day it felt like!  She got her first real wheelchair at 3 years old, just in time to start special needs preschool. She got a feeding tube at 6 years old because I started asking about one. She wasn't gaining weight fast enough and obviously wasn't always being hydrated enough. We gave her supplemental calories at night to begin with and she ate by mouth up until she was 9 and we started the Ketogenic diet to manage her increasing seizure activity. We eventually gave up on the second hearing aid as she had never shown any hearing in that ear. We also gave up the glasses because she didn’t look through them as much as she looked peripherally around them. When we tried to strengthen the prescription, she wouldn’t wear them anymore, even when we switched back.

I used to wish really hard for twins. I always wanted twins! Heavenly Father granted me the "blessing" of having twins every time I had a new baby. My other babies passed Becca up right around 4 months old, when they started rolling and sitting. She has grown in her own ways and has a special place in our hearts and the hearts of her 4 siblings. She turned 13 on the 13th of January 2013! She doesn't have a reliable form of communication and still needs 100% support to sit or stand. She is such a pleasant, peaceful presence in our home.

I have always felt like Becca was supposed to come to me just as she is. By all definitions, I should have had CMV long before I ever started my own family. I didn't. And as much as I want to hate CMV and curse it's name forever, I have made my peace with it. It didn't take a perfect daughter from me, it gave me my perfect Becca. That doesn't stop me from teaching and informing and encouraging pregnant Moms to know their CMV status and to follow the hygiene guidelines that prevent it from happening to someone else. Go to StopCMV.org and educate yourself! Let Becca be an example and do all you can to prevent it. But please know that we love her just the way she is and that we're okay with it all.

Weakness: Speaking in Public. Strength: Testimony.

Today I fought a war with myself on the Church bench. I could tell when Fast and Testimony meeting started that I was supposed to go up there. Just that quiet little feeling that encourages us to share our thoughts and feelings. I didn't want to go. I don't like to speak in front of people. I sit there and I think of all these wonderful, eloquent things to say and I get up there in front of everyone and none of it comes out! Now, if you're kind, like my brother, you'll mention that maybe what came out, was what was supposed to come out, and I really hope that that is true. I believe it is, most of the time. I just wish I could get up and say what's in my heart the way it sounds in my head, which is always way more awesome than what actually comes out. And so, here I am, sharing more of what was actually in my heart today. That way, my kids will know that I actually have deep feelings, not just what I'm able to get past my shaking hands and stumbling tongue.

I have been thinking a lot about my youth. My days as a teenager were pretty quiet. I preferred my music in my bedroom to putting myself out there. In Arizona, where I started my teens, I had a large group of LDS friends. I think I've told the story already about what a battle I had to fight to win the privilege of hanging out with them: Conquering (or waiting out) a bully. I had incredible Young Women leaders. They weren't perfect, but they were perfect for me. They bore their testimonies to me in words and in the way that they lived. When I first became a Beehive, Cherie W. was YW president and Vicki W. was my first Beehive advisor. She gave me an apron that I still have... pink and turquoise geese and all! I hadn't been in very long when they switched things up and my Dad became Bishop and the YW president became Tammy B.... oh how I loved her! I first had Sister Greene for a new Beehive advisor and I remember when she got Sealed in the Mesa Temple. I remember when one of the Laurels that I looked up to, Sandy C., sang You Are the Wind Beneath my Wings. She was so nervous and overwhelmed by the Spirit that she could hardly make it through and Tammy was encouraging her from the piano where she was playing for her. I remember a "Through the Veil" activity with our leaders dressed in white and welcoming us to the other side. Before Young Women, when Tammy was our Merrie Miss Leader, we had a goal to gain a testimony. I remember talking about it a lot and feeling very inadequate and expressing to her that I didn't know what one felt like. She was so patient and loving in explaining to me the warm feelings of the Holy Ghost and how little things, little feelings, make up the greater whole of a testimony. It was the first time I could really say I believed in something for myself.

When I moved to Utah just before turning 16, I was pretty sure my life was over! It was a very hard move for me. I discovered that living the gospel in Utah was not "easier" than in other places. It still took a lot of hard work and I learned how not to judge people. I really got a lot out of Seminary. Starting with Brother B. in AZ who taught all day long as the only teacher to Brothers B., P. and C., who were on a team of many. My Young Women leaders in Utah were awesome, too. Sharon R. was our YW president and Sister R. was my Laurel Advisor. They helped me to choose to come to mutual and let me help plan many of the activities. We cooked and served and talked.

I don't need to be "famous" in someone's personal history to know I've made it as a Young Women leader. If they have a strong testimony and continue to add to it line upon line and I can be a part of that, I count myself lucky. If they gain confidence in themselves because they are part of planning awesome activities for their friends in our ward, what a blessing! Looking back, there are SO many people who have touched my life, prayed for me, taught me spiritual lessons, and been there for me when I needed them. More than my limited memory can still name. I want to be that window to the gospel. I want the girls in my care to remember how it feels to feel the Spirit speak to you during a lesson. I want them to lift and guide the girls around them so that they experience the unity and togetherness a great group of Young Women living the gospel can have. I want them to feel valued and gain self confidence as they progress in all areas of their life while anchoring themselves in the gospel.

THIS is what my heart has been full of lately. The simplistic, wandering testimony I said today over the pulpit was only a tiny part. I guess it pretty much always is and that has to be okay.

I know that my Heavenly Father knows me and He loves me. He shows me every day. I know that my Savior died for me and hurts when I hurt and allows me to repent when I need to. I know that the restored gospel is true. I am forever grateful for the sacrifices that Joseph Smith gave and also all of the blessed pioneers who endured so, so much so that I can have the gospel so easily accessible to myself and my family. I know that President Monson is the true prophet and he talks to God and receives revelation for us, God's children. I know that we belong in the Ward in which we live. We are supposed to be right here, with the callings that we have, with our children in classes taught my someone who was meant to be in that calling at this time for my child. I know all of this because my testimony is real and it is mine and the Lord confirms it to me by small and quiet means that are meant just for me. I share this testimony in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

On Inspiration

By way of disclaimer, may I say that, you really had to be there!

Tonight my friend Tanya and her friend (whose name escapes me) put on a fireside in our Ward. The Bishop has been talking them up for a long time and I have been really, really excited to go. (Imagine my chagrin when I couldn't remember if it started at 6 or 6:30 and missed 15 minutes of it by the time I got there.) It was kind of like a two-woman, very hip version of Music and the Spoken Word. They played and sang original songs intermingled with inspiring essays on Talents and Divine Nature and Creativity. The Spirit was so strong. Tanya and I have this very symbiotic relationship when it comes to creativity. We both sense and recognize it in each other and we both love to encourage the other. Neither of us are big and flashy, which makes her encouragement that much more sincere to me. I know she means what she says and I hope she knows the same about me.

One of the first things that drove me closer to taking bigger strides with my writing was accepting Tanya's invitation to go to a speakers night with the Writing Class here in town. Three (or was it four?) authors told their stories of how they got to be published. It was one of those fire-lighting moments that made me think this could actually work. That I could actually become a published author.

One of my favorite songs from tonight was called Thursday Morning. Before she sang, they talked about how they would meet on Thursday mornings to work on their creative projects; writing songs. They would let their kids have run of the house and just go for it in the music room. Her song talked about how setting aside that time to just create was worth the mess that they had to clean up afterwards. I am always talking myself out of writing because the laundry or dishes or blah blah blah needs doing first. What if I set aside time where I didn't feel guilt for letting those things go for a few hours a week and just wrote instead? What if my boys watched an extra episode of Dinosaur Train once in a while so that I can lose myself in the world I've created? Would it be so bad if my girls came home from school and caught me typing away? I would love it my kids grew up knowing that they can, and should, take time to develop their talents and create something that nobody else can do.

I spent a lot of time this past week being sick. I'm not sure if I got hit by 2 sicknesses or if it was all the same bundle, but I struggled gastrointestinally and had a cough besides. It was pretty miserable. I read a lot. I read Divergent, Cleopatra's Moon, Incarceron and Matched. I won't give you full reviews in this post, the point is that reading other people's writing does two things to me... makes me want to write my own and makes me want to change what they wrote. That doesn't sound fair. It's not that I want to change their creative baby, I just mean that I love getting to know their characters and I imagine them doing things differently, just for fun. At the back of Divergent she has excellent "Special Features" and she has a cool essay where she talks about Utopian worlds versus Dystopian worlds. People like to read and write dystopian novels because they are obviously far more interesting, but also because we want to imagine what it would be like to play out certain situations. I love where my imagination takes me when I read and I love the super charged, exhilarating feeling of writing down what only I can imagine even better.

So, at the risk of this being yet another post of mine that comes across as me whining about how I want to write and never do, I just wanted to share what inspired me tonight. It inspired me that two young moms just like me carved out time to follow their creative dreams. Their end products, the songs and spoken sentiments inspired me in their beauty and the fact that they were done! They finished something! They wrote songs that they could then play and sing. They said words into a microphone that they had no doubt edited and honed to be exactly the words that they wanted to say. How much greater would it be for me to be able to pull a book off the shelf and show my daughters what can be done rather than have them stumble onto a bunch of old blog posts about how I wish I had done more. Unless I take pictures of clean sinks and stacks of folded laundry, they won't remember those things, I'm pretty sure.

Go out and create something! That's where I'm headed off to! May we both be successful and enjoy the ride at the same time! 

I know this isn't the best written post in the world, but I wanted to capture some of the feelings and inspirations I caught today. To read my reviews of the books I read, please visit here.

To My Second Dad

I know you got to be at your funeral because Becca saw you. She was so happy to see you that she laughed and laughed and laughed. Really, really loud! Who did you bring with you? Who else got to come? She didn't just look in one place. You brought friends and family, I am sure of it. I was jealous of her in those moments. I didn't shush her. I just let the tears roll down my face.

I've cried quite a few tears on your behalf. I'm sure you wish I wouldn't. I'm sure you are glad to be out of pain. But I know you miss us. All of us. And I know you know what it's like to miss a Dad, a brother, and a sister, so I know you won't mind too much if I cry a lot. You always asked me how I was doing and I know you really wanted to know. I could never lie to you like I did to everyone else by saying, "I'm fine." If I wasn't fine, you knew. The best I could do to mask it was to use different words, but I never said I was fine unless I really was, not to you anyway. You, on the other hand, were most decidedly not fine, but you never ever complained. Always so gracious. Loving. Complimentary. You always told me not to worry about you. And so instead of worrying, I prayed a lot. I prayed that I would get to keep you. That my kids would get to keep their Grandpa. That my husband wouldn't have to lose his Dad. I knew all the time that I was not in charge, though. I knew I could ask, but that I needed to be grown-up enough not to throw a fit if I didn't get my way. I know who is in charge and that He loves you just as much as we do and that He has important work for you to do. My heart still hurts and I still miss you, but I know you are exactly where you are meant to be.

You are probably using your stellar Home Teaching skills on all of the lucky souls around you. You have probably already made new friends who remember gardening just like you. I'm sure you are surrounded by all of the family you revered, some of them who left this life the same way you did. I hope you told them all how much we still think about them and miss them, too. I hope they already knew. Are there gardens where you are? If there are, they are so lucky to have you! If they were beautiful before, they are ever so much more so now. Is there furniture to build and design? I hope there are lots of things to learn and to do because you don't like to sit still much. Even when you sat downstairs and watched old westerns, you were always doing something with your hands and your brain as you watched. You are not a sit still person. Gardens don't get tended by someone who sits in one place.

I hope you got to see us all together for those couple of weeks even though I'm sure you were already busy. It was nice to feel each other's support. We all struggle in our different ways. Your grandkids say things that would probably make you laugh, but that sometimes bring tears to us that are still here. Landon asks me most days when you will be resurrected so he can tell you things. He is sensitive to the word "die" and corrects people to say that you passed away. We have had some neat conversations about why that is sometimes nicer to say. He is so very curious about where Heaven is and where exactly you are in relation to him. I don't really know what to tell him since I don't know that part yet.

I'm not really sure what Ethan understands. When we have a memory and we talk about you, he will turn to me and tuck his chin and say that you died. His brother will quickly correct him to say passed away. Sometimes he still asks where you are. Not in a 'where is Heaven?' way, but as if he would really like to know. If you came walking back in the door, he wouldn't be surprised, he would just be glad you're back.

Gracie has needed a lot more cuddles lately. She is often ruled by touch. She needs to be hugged. She gets embarassed about the big feelings she has. She doesn't like to cry in front of people and so she curls in a ball and tries to hide it. She knows all of the answers we've been giving her, but I'm not sure how much of it she has really internalized. Not that I expect her to, she's only 8, she'll get there eventually.

Emily has struggled the hardest of them all. She really cries. She feels sorrow. She didn't want you to go. She is learning how permanent this is. At first, she just kept saying things like 'I didn't want this to happen. I prayed that this wouldn't happen. Why did it still happen?' I am so grateful for the gospel that has so many answers that we seek at times like this. I'm so glad to have the answers that she needs. I hope they are enough for now, until she can gain her own testimony about the Plan of Salvation.

I have things I wish I had said to you. I wish I could have talked more openly about your leaving like your own kids did. It was hard for me to think of it like that. Maybe, over all, that would have been a more healthy way to approach things. But I'm me and I live through my heart and my heart hurts right now. I wanted to talk to you about if you were the one that comes to get Becca. There are things I wish someone knew about that. I hope they're common knowledge where you are. I pray about that and think about her leaving more than most parents think about their children's cross over to the other side. I wish I could have talked to you about that. I wish I would have made sure that you knew exactly how much I loved you and respect you and look up to you. I hope that you knew that by the little things I did say. They are very, very deep feelings. I hope you had the inkling. Do we ever feel like we told our loved ones that we loved them enough? I doubt it.

I'll let Geoff have his own feelings. It's up to him if he wants to share them this way or not. Tonight at dinner he said something about "Grandpa" and the kids were asking which one and I said to him, "You have to specifiy which one!" in a little more snippier of a tone than I meant to. He knows I didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but it brought tears. He has moments every day that he thinks about sharing with you and he can't. Not in the usual way. I hope you still get to watch over him and that he can still feel your influence. There is so much respect there. He brings you up a lot to his kids and tells them memories and gives them advice like you would. He takes everyone's condolences graciously. Every once in a while he tells them that he didn't really listen to your radio show because if he had a question, he would just ask you. He tells them that you were a terrific father, not just a terrific gardener. Most people are surprised that we're your kids. I'm not sure how to feel about that. I hope it's not becuase our yard was sub-par. I hope it is because we just loved you and didn't run around bragging about it. The same way you did with us. I know you told people glowing things in quiet moments because several people told us so. I know you catch my drift.

I will miss your voice and how you used to read stories to the kids. I will miss you whistling Becca's tune to let her know that it was you. I will miss how you included her in everything the other kids got to do. I will miss all of the random, surprising things you found at NPS and shared with us all the time. Oh, that honey wheat bread! I will miss your funny stories and jokes and how your daughters would prompt you to tell them over and over. I will miss how you and your wife were such a duo. Doing so much together. Coordinating trips down to Utah County almost as much as your really big tour trips so that everything fit in and everything got done and everyone got visited. Reminding each other of things. How she always knew just where the thing is that you needed for the job you were doing at the moment. I helped her try to find something in the garage the other day and I know you would have been able to tell her exactly where it was within inches if you had been there. I miss you a lot. You take care up there... or over there... or wherever Heaven is exactly. And save me a hug for when I get to where you are. Because no matter what I do in this life, it had better lead me to the same place that you are or else it wouldn't be Heaven to me. I love You.

Love Forever,
Diana

Link to Geoff's Blog Post