When your dad dies.

Dying has been part of conversations with my dad ever since I can remember. He'd make comments like, "Dying is easy. It's living that's hard," and "When I get old I'm going to stop going to the Doctor. I don't want to just be hanging around in bed," and "If I can't be in my garden, just let me die," and the most recent, "A friend told me if I get a good chance to die I should take it." I'd heard these comments a thousand times. I also saw him survive serious illness if not a thousand, definitely several times. When I was very young my father had an ostomy to help him overcome IBC. He contracted the mumps when I was about 8 years old.When I was a teenager he suffered from Bells Palsy. Later, my brother, Pete, donated his kidney to my Dad because his kidneys were failing. Dad had surgery on his lungs after several bouts of pneumonia. Each time he was in trouble I would try and picture life without him, and my heart would break.

During his last years, each visit came with the nagging question, will this be our last time together? This question made each minute together a tender gift. I definitely noticed his decline in health, but each time we thought it was the end, he would rally. My sister said that she saw where the doctor had written on his chart, "Does not die easily."

Last summer I was teaching my son, Gabe, how to garden.Watermelons were his most prolific crop. I was thrilled about this because Dad grew hundreds of watermelons and it felt like a family legacy. In the gardening process I remember thinking, "I need to ask Dad how to know when to harvest the melons." A few days later I got a call that Dad was failing and not communicating at all." I thought of my burning gardening question and began sobbing as I realized I might not have access to my father until the next life. As luck would have it, my Dad rallied again. I casually asked him on the phone through my tears when I should harvest my watermelons. (Yes I know about google, but where is the family heritage in that?)

Because of these frequent recoveries the actual end surprised me. On January 12, 2019, Mom called in the morning to ask us to pray for Dad because he wasn't doing very well. Of course I prayed, but I wondered, "Is this like last time when he wasn't doing very well and then he was?" When I got the message that he had passed I couldn't believe it.

As is my way, when I start to plummet emotionally, I jump into action. It's not always the most effective or efficient action, but action feels better than sadness. And action was good, because there was a lot to be done. There are 10 children in our family and it took contributions from everyone to make everything happen. We made arrangements to travel to Richfield, UT. Mary drove down first and took care of all the funeral details. Nieces created slideshows and table centerpieces. There were airport pickups, driving through snow, housing arrangements, musical preparations and lots of love to distribute.

I got to Richfield a couple of days before the funeral. I was able to learn about a day in the life in the nursing home by staying in the room with Mom a couple of nights. I enjoyed meeting the friends and nurses that my parents loved. It was a treat to listen to the Durfee band entertain with a morning concert. I did not enjoy the way that not enough residents sleep in the night. One gentleman called out for help at 4:00 am. I woke up with a start ready to save him.  I learned that he just likes to wake up early, but the nurses told him they won't let him get ready for the day until 6:00 am. The next door neighbor also wakes up in the night, bored, so just starts chatting. Bless everyone's heart.

Mary was working really hard planning the funeral, I worked a little bit trying to arrange Mom's move, but we managed to have a little play time. We hit the Mexican restaurant at least 3 times and I finally got to drive by the Miller home--bucket list win.

Thursday night the family headed over to Manti to gather, practice singing, and prepare for the next day's activities. I stayed with Mom so I could help her load the car and drive away from her life with Dad. As luck would have it, we woke up to snow. Not this Georgia girl's fave. I couldn't find an ice scraper so begged a plastic putty knife from the kind maintenance man. We'll just call that the first miracle of the day. With Mom in her van and me in my rental car we headed towards Manti. Unfortunately, my cell phone doesn't work very well in remote Utah towns so I had no GPS. I wasn't concerned however, because I was following Mom who had made the trip to Manti many times. Well, that was a lot of pressure for an 82 year old woman who had just lost her husband of 60 years. We missed the exit and found ourselves driving up an unfamiliar canyon. Looking for the second miracle of the day we solicited help from kind strangers who happily pointed us in the right direction. We were thankful but stressed, I'm going to say really stressed. We were an hour late to the viewing. I realized I had one job, and I didn't do it as well as I'd hoped. That being said, we made it.

When we walked into the church my heart filled with joy. Over a hundred of my favorite people in life were there to remember my father. I think that's what heaven feels like, siblings, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, old friends from California, children, even a friend from GA all bringing love.

There was a moment at the viewing when Mom and her children gathered around the casket. It's hard to describe the sacredness of that time. Our eternal family, gathered in one place. We missed my brother, Pete,

but it was a privilege to stand with those cherished people and say goodbye to our Dad who loved, taught, protected and provided for us.

Dad had been planning his funeral for years. I think it was one of his favorite activities. It was not  my mom's favorite activity. He had song requests, speaker requests, so many requests we were looking at an all day affair. We decided to have each child take 5 minutes. The daughters and daughter in law sang "I heard Him Come."

Heidi sang, "Consider the Lilies of the Field," and the Grandchildren sang "A Child's Prayer."

We came in under an hour. Mom said she wants the same program but instead of "Lilies of the Field," "Oh Holy Night." Heidi generously volunteered everyone else for that one.

The graveside dedication was picturesque with the Manti temple in the background and family in the foreground.















 The casket was beautifully crafted by the neighbor, wild flowers were placed on top. Wildflowers were a fitting choice. Dad was not a fan of too much order in the landscape. He didn't like it when "The lawn looks like an extension of the carpet." :)

Watching the handsome and beloved sons and grandsons carry the casket was another tender moment in an already tender day.

Upon returning to the church, the Manti ward provided a delicious luncheon.We used this time to finish the rest of Dad's requests. Melinda, Susie and Mary sang, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" Dad's favorite performance by his daughters. Mary's girls sang, "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You." This was my parents' romance song. My family sang, "Dooley." It's a bootleg song, but Dad loved it because it came from the Andy Griffith Show. Melinda's family sang "120 Acres." Charlie and Meg sang "To Know, Know, Know You." It was the song playing during Mom and Dad's honeymoon. Charlie also walked on his hands as per Dad's request. Trevor and Jack sang "Dear Theodosia." One of our friends observed, "Millers put the fun in funeral." I'm proud of that.

I actually love funerals. I feel exhausted from the sadness and joy and love and sentiment and fear and faith that swirls in my brain and heart. But I'm so thankful that I had that person, and I like that I ache at their absence. Sorrow at parting tells me that I loved deeply and that is sweet knowledge. There have been many words describing what it's like when a loved one goes home. Those words are true, but that's not all, and I didn't know it until I felt it. It's happiness that the person is safe and home and free from mortal trials. It's regret for the missed opportunities for love that pride or anger or an unforgiving heart might have stolen for a while. It's a pain in my chest that lives there now. It's smiling when I think of him complaining about his big house because if he forgot his comb he had to walk too far. It's gratitude for his desire to love God and family and serve those around him, and it's hope that our family can gather again in a circle someday.

And we will come back home, home again.

Sometimes I feel like the angels plan a trip for me. That was the case last Friday when I boarded a plane for SLC. I was able to visit my cute sister, Heidi, my darling niece Katelyn and her wonderful husband, Mitchell, my awesome brother and sister-in-law John and Stephani and their family, my cherished children Rebecca and Andrew, and my loving parents. As has always been the case for me, whenever I'm on my way home to my parents' house I have a welling in my heart of gratitude and sentiment and belonging.

It was no different Saturday morning as I drove south into the UT wilderness to Richfield where my parents reside in a nursing facility. As I walked into their room at the end of the left hall, I felt like a little girl coming home.

Of course the room was decorated with antiques and flowers. Original artwork depicting my mother, painted by my Dad, adorned the walls. Dad's farming hat hung by the window in sight of the tomato plant that was just barely receiving enough sun to grow. Mom's "Book of Remembrance" stood fanned on the table top overflowing with our family tree, family pictures, and family histories. They each had scriptures by their bedside. As is always the case when I'm with my parents, our reunion was filled with love and learning.

I learned about beauty. Mom's Valentine Christmas tree was decorated with pink and red hearts. She asked me to change it out for her summer Christmas tree. From her car, which serves as extra storage, I retrieved the most exquisite silk roses. She had me place them on the permanent Christmas tree, and do you know what? They looked fabulous. Guys, everyone needs a summer Christmas tree.

On Sunday, when it was time for church, Mom got dolled up in her darling outfit accented with a perfect lace choker. Dad was dressed in his suit and had his hair combed. Never mind that there were 15 people tops at the meeting, Sunday church is special and we show respect for the occasion.

I learned about finishing strong. During the past few years, my mother has been teaching herself to play the piano. On Sundays, a young man comes from the community to play the piano for church in the nursing home. He doesn't usually arrive until 7 minutes prior, so my mom's responsibility is to play the pre-prelude. I was excited to hear her play. She does a wonderful job. But what I loved even more was when she took a detour on our way down the hall to invite a friend to church. The friend wasn't feeling well, so she got a hug and a kind word in addition to the invitation. My father's church responsibility is greeting. On this Sunday I was the force behind his intentions as I wheeled him to each person in the room where they received a warm welcome and sincere interest in their well-being. After the meeting, Dad made sure he spoke to each person who contributed to the program and thanked them. He was so disappointed that the man who sang the special musical number left before Dad could compliment him and express his appreciation. As we walked back to the room after a lovely church service, we took the long way as Mom stopped to visit her friends and make them feel loved. I was proud of the example of service these dear people give me and the rest of their posterity.

I learned about aging. I've already felt the impact of losing abilities I once had. Sometimes it seems unfair that we spend the first half of our life developing talents that slowly diminish the second half. I saw that phenomenon in a different way after spending time at home in a place I've never lived with people that I'll never stop loving. Our gifts and abilities are stored away as desires to be unlocked in their fulness at a future time in eternity. My Dad has been farming/gardening ever since I can remember. I ate peas from his mother's garden and continued to benefit from a bounteous harvest throughout my growing years. Not being able to garden has been heart-breaking for my father. That problem was solved with the planting of the tomato. From the vantage point of his bed, Dad measures the plant's growth against the wall. He worries about it's progress and makes sure that the stems aren't broken in the moving. That is one of the secret joys of gardening, watching for and caring about growth. There are so many references to gardens in the scriptures. It just goes to show, gardening is powerful. Once, after a conversation my father and I had about pomegranates and propagation and problems, he said, "Keep farming." It occurred to me that he said something very important for life.

Dad has always loved to sketch and paint people. While other people watch tv and eat. He watches tv and draws. His favorite subject is my mother. We all have favorite paintings. My favorite is a painting he painted not too long ago that won sweepstakes at the fair. Because of a stroke, he has lost vision in one eye and strength on his right side. He has been so frustrated by this because he can't walk or play the guitar or any of the other activities that brought him satisfaction, including art. Since water color is easier to manage, Mom gave him a set and encouraged him to paint. He showed me his most recent painting which was of my mother, of course. He was disappointed because it lacked the skills he had previously attained, but I was inspired because I see his heart and the gifts he has developed shining through his mortal limitations.

And as always when I'm home, I learned a little more about love. The tight hugs and gentle kisses upon arrival, the expressions of gratitude, and sincere compliments filled me to the tippy top. And when I watch my parents snuggle and visit all through the day I feel safe and warm and full of hope. When my mom was playing the piano Dad turned to me and said, "Isn't she good?" That was adorable, but after church, back in the room, Dad beckoned my mom to come to his wheelchair.  I thought he needed help, but he just whispered, "You look really pretty today." I about died from the cuteness.

What a privilege to visit and worship with these parents who have blessed my life. Our closing song in church was "God be with you til we meet again." I cried the whole way through, because I know that someday we'll have to be separated for awhile. I'm reassured, however, that families are forever, and I'm thankful for mine.

So, do you wanna hear about my trip?

My niece, Abigail, got married last week, and the wedding was in UT, and I love her, and I love some people in Utah, so I was happy to plan a trip.

Wednesday: Sometimes it takes a bit of a miracle (Christmas miracle, Delta employees like to say) to get where you need to go. I had tried and failed to get on a flight to SLC a few weeks ago, but that was an optional trip. This trip was for real. When I saw that there were 12 seats open and I was # 17 I had to go to my "calm yourself, it's not over til the door closes" mode. And then they called my name and I became one thankful little traveler.

I arrived at the SLC airport to the usual family groups waiting to greet their returning missionaries. It gets me every time. Then, I grabbed a shuttle which was heading Provo way and was off. Sharing the shuttle with me was a very brave missionary starting his 2 year mission. He was the only active member of our church in his family, but he was determined to serve the Lord even without family support. I was inspired by his faith.

My youngest daughter has been at BYU since September, and I was happy to see her digs, meet her awesome roommates and relive some of the exciting, stressful, fun, overwhelming, fulfilling, heart breaking, victorious glory days of college life.

Back in the day you could run the diagonal and it looked like Brigham Young
was doing the funky chicken. Now the sidewalk is parallel, and the illusion is lost.
Sorry, cougars.

We went to the bookstore, did some laundry, organized her clothes, and basically had a blast.

Thursday: Okay, do you know what I used to love to do in college? Play raquetball. Baby girl rounded up a racquet from a friend and we walked down to the RB for a game or two. I felt so nostalgic in those courts. (Paul and I had our first date there.) I remembered the squeaks and the smells and the fun.

 And when we were done, I remembered the stairs. There is nothing more real than the stairs from the Richard's building up to campus. My calves were begging for mercy. They were not used to morning, million-stair climbing.

Then my daughter went to class and I met my cute son for lunch.

We ate delicious sandwiches at Gloria's downtown. The only problem was when he told me he was across the street from the Provo Temple, in actuality he was across the street from the Provo City temple.

 Having two temples close to each other is never a problem, however. We'll just have to be more specific. Then we went for a quick shopping trip. This boy never buys clothes. I mean, his 5 year old jeans still stay on his body, and who would buy pants when they could buy concert tickets? But the Easter Bunny loves him.

With my boy safely delivered to work it was time to get back to campus. As I waited for my daughter in the library, I observed a sociology project where the awkwardness of a mismatched height couple was studied. It involved taking this picture of 2 strangers of differing height. I love BYU.

 Then I saw a few of Rebecca's friends that I only know through my expert facebook stalking. It was tricky hiding my face of recognition while still staring and eavesdropping. It's a lot of work being this nosy.

Next was the wedding reception. It was held at Thanksgiving point in a beautiful venue in The Loft. One of my favorite experiences is walking into a designated place and finding my far flung family gathered together. I just love these people. We had pie and visited and then of course, we danced. I know I'm kind of old to be dancing, but I do it for the family unity, and I just kind of still like to. We created a circle and took turns initiating dance moves. Cousins, brother in laws, sisters and friends left their comfort zones and brought the fun.

Blair, Rebecca and Gwen

Me, Heidi and Mary

Miller cousins

This is the same night my daughter caught her 6th wedding bouquet. She has proven that catching the bouquet does not determine who gets married next, (she caught her first one when she was 12) but does develop some excellent tracking the trajectory and positioning skills.

Beautiful bride, Abigail and lucky cousin, Rebecca

Friday was the wedding. The temperature was a brisk 30 degrees. The wedding was lovely and the bride and groom were beautiful.  They were some of the first to be married in the Provo City Temple.
Afterwards we gathered and visited and took pictures and complained about the weather and visited and took pictures. I actually had to tone down my complaining when I was reminded that it was a lot colder at my first daughter's December wedding a few years ago. Point taken.

Mom and Susie (the mother of the bride)

Me, Mom, Susie and Mary

Following the sealing was a groom's luncheon where we ate delicious soup (about 6 varieties) and engaged in more visiting, this time in the warm inside. We were then treated to some real cowboy poetry and music as provided by the groom's father and friend. The groom is from Wyoming and apparently that's how they roll there. I feel culturally enlightened. Since the reception was before the wedding the bridal send-off was from the luncheon. We had to stall the bride and groom while the get-away car was made ready, and our crowd contained mostly close family members, but the sentiment was warm and genuine.

Trevor and Amy's Emma

Friday evening, the Easter Bunny took Rebecca shopping and we closed up the night with a delightful viewing of Zootopia. I dropped my daughter in BYU land and I headed to Springville to stay with Paul's brother and his awesome family.

Saturday: I woke up to icy windows and snow. I muttered over the inconvenience of doggedly persistent winter, overlooked the ice scraper that was in the car and made do with a dustpan from the garage that worked surprisingly well for scraping windows. I drove the 70 snowy and cold miles to Manti  (I know I whine so much) to visit my parents. I walked into the quaint 120 yr. old house that my mother has decorated to be the perfect English cottage with her pink silk rose bouquets, lace and patchwork, camel back couch and crystal chandeliers. Classy radio was playing in the background and I felt that "coming home" warmth in my heart that always gives way to gratitude for my loving parents. Each time I am with them I am impressed with something different. This time, as my mother showed off her new bathroom, I observed that she had placed a little dresser with a table cloth and of course, a rose bouquet in an empty space that just wasn't beautiful enough. I recognized that no matter where they are, my parents improve. They improve their space, they garden, they decorate, create music, develop talents, solve problems. Their energy may wane, and their health may decline, but they will be forever progressing and making the world better. And since I am their child, I should do the same.

The bathroom

Manti temple where Eliza was married

View of the temple from Mom's porch

Dad sitting under the lamp he created from natural wood from his property.

After a wonderful afternoon I returned to the Provo area to gather for another mini family reunion hosted by Paul's brother and family. We were joined by Paul's sister and daughter. It's interesting how children grow even if I'm not there to watch them. We played a rousing game of spoons, which was new for Andrew's friend and ate Mexican food and BYU creamery ice cream. Another fun night.

John, Brianna, Stephanie, Rebecca, Olivia, Tylo, Barbara, Andrew, Mikayla

spoons

Easter Sunday: So on the day we celebrate the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I was able to worship in my daughter's ward (congregation). It couldn't have been a more perfect day for a mom. There were many beautiful musical numbers performed by talented college students. Baby girl had been asked to be a speaker and share a scripture and her testimony of the Savior.  What a sweet gift from heaven to be listening to a child share her faith and conviction and love for her Redeemer.

Rebecca and roommates and friend

We joined my brother and sweet family for Easter dinner. Played more fun games, ate lots of delicious food. shared great times with cute children, and a puppy and bunny, and then it was over.

The Miller girls

Catch Phrase. The girls won.

 I woke up to more snow, and my brave sister-in-law drove me to the airport. I got on the plane without incident, a miracle to be sure, There was only the slight complication of needing 3 trucks to de-ice the plane, but I wasn't bothered, because I had had a fantastic week with so many loved ones. And besides, I landed in 70 degree GA sunshine. Life is good.