Our Baby is a High School Senior

Twenty six years ago, I was just beginning my life as a mother. I never dreamed it would be this wonderful or difficult. I had no idea how much my heart would change, how much I would love these beautiful, amazing babies.

For more than 20 years now my mornings have been filled with waking up sleepy children, packing lunches and sending them off to public school. My afternoons have been filled with helping in classrooms, serving on the PTA and throwing class parties. My evenings have been filled with checking backpacks, helping with homework, filling out forms and enforcing bedtime.

It all comes down to this . . . the last year of public school. My baby's first day of the last year of public school.

It's a bittersweet time. I never imagined I would feel melancholy about saying "the last time" to things like student registration, parent teacher conference and homecoming dances with many more coming as the year progresses. The truth is, I have loved every single minute of it, and I will miss a lot of things after this year is over and  I see my beautiful baby girl in her cap and gown with a high school diploma in hand.

I'm grateful to have had the chance to be the mother of such amazing and intelligent children.

Jesus Loves Me!

Dad was prepared! He had his funeral plans complete and paid for before he died. All we had to do was choose flowers, write the obituary, put the death date on the headstone, and put on a celebration of his life.

Putting together pictures and a display to celebrate dad was emotional, but brought back many memories of times past and helped me get to know him even better. We included items from his missionary service for the LDS Church in the Southwest Indian Mission, items from his service in the U.S. Army during the Korean War, items from his work life as a NASA engineer, items describing his service as a leader in the LDS Church, and most important - items that detailed his family life.

It was a beautiful celebration. Angels were present as earthly angel granddaughters sang "Come Thou Fount", a rendition composted by my beautiful Melissa Lynn. Not a dry eye was seen by the end of this performance.

In the limousine ride to the cemetery, all my siblings and I piled in - just like we did so many times before on family vacations. This time we were much bigger, much older, and missing our parents. On the drive over, we began singing the song our parents taught us in the many hours spent on the road, "Jesus Loves Me, Yes I know" in Navajo. It was decided that we would sing this song at dad's grave as a tribute to his love. I know dad was thrilled - he was there with us. I will not soon forget the feeling of peace and love that was felt by all.

Losing Dad

My dad . . .very capable, confident, independent, handy and smart. His dry and quick sense of humor was usually unexpected, but always appreciated. His nickname for me was his little Son (pronounced Sawn), and I never tired of hearing him say it. He endearingly called all eight of his kids "kitty cats" or "little toads". We in turn called him our "Daddy Toad".

Dad rarely, if ever, missed a game, performance, race, piano recital or parade when any of his kids were involved. If your car didn't start, your plumbing didn't work, you were in a fender bender, stuck in bad weather, or just simply needed help, he was there with his tools and wallet in hand. He taught us all how to snow ski, fix a car, cut wood, drive a car, water ski and jet ski. He let us help him pour concrete, paint, hang wallpaper, build a bookshelf, solder a circuit board or fix anything electronic. Every year he took his family on a vacation in a tent, camper, travel trailer or housboat. We explored many national parks, beaches, lakes, zoos and amusement parks. He drove many miles singing with us all the way. When dad was around, we knew all was okay.

Dad loved to build models, HAM radio, radio controlled airplanes, snow skiing, water sports, guns, and anything electronic. He was a NASA Engineer, and had an integral part in the space industry. He loved chocolate donuts, meat and potatoes, rice pudding, custard, and anything sweet. 

I never worried about dad, until he suffered a stroke. This humbling experience made me realize that I took a lot for granted about my dad. After a few months in the hospital, dad came home with me to continue his recovery. He worked hard to learn how to walk without a walker, then without a cane. He was determined to be independent again. I loved to watch this man, humbled by his health challenges, get up every morning with a new vigor to live life to it's fullest. I loved waking up to the clinking of his spoon stirring hot chocolate every morning at 6:00 a.m., hearing his "oh hi Son" when I walked in.

He did return to independence, living in a small apartment close to my home. He made many friends and continued his love of life. Until the call I received that dad had blacked out and fell, severely hitting his head causing much damage. He never would recover. I spent many hours by his bedside reading to him, singing his favorite songs, holding his hand, and watching him sleep. The last words I heard him say were "I love you my little Son". He never woke up that next day. I knew that my job of caring for him was complete and that he would be off to a better place, the place he taught me about - Heaven. He would be reunited with my my mom, his sweetheart, who passed away 9 years previously. He was ready to meet his Father in Heaven, and his Savior. He was ready, but I wasn't. I'm still not ready to lose my dad. But, I'm grateful that he was my dad.

I look forward to being reunited with both my mom and dad, and I'm certain he will say "oh, hi Son" when I see him. That will be a glorious day.