See the Good

Somehow we have made it three years.  Three whole years without him laughing with us (or, more likely, at us).  Three years without his singing.  Three years without him teasing his nieces, or his daughters, or his grandchildren.  Three years without his wisdom, his advice, or his steadfastness.  It's been so long and so short all in the same instant.  

In the days and weeks leading up to July 25th the overall feeling I seemed to come back to was that of sadness.  I am so very sad that he is gone.  Nothing is going to remedy that ache I feel when I think of what and who he is missing.  I am sad for myself, for my mother, for my sisters, for my brother, for my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins.  I am sad for our community, for his friends, and the young people he inspired.  And when I look at pictures like the one above I am so very sad for my sweet babies.  For the fact that they have to miss out on knowing him as a real live dancing grandpa.

But I am trying to see the good.  I am trying to find the tender mercies and the little miracles that happened along the way, and that continue to happen today.  July and all it's places make me think of him and those last weeks before he left us.  In the past few weeks I have been back to Island Park and Bear Lake, two places my dad loved with all of his heart and two places that he spent some of his final days.  He was so very sick at the end, but what a miracle it is that he could be with our families in those sacred places and visit with those he loved.  I don't doubt he knew his time was limited.  He never said it, but I am sure he knew.  He knew that those were his last visits to the places he loved, and while he didn't get to enjoy them like he had in the past, I know being there helped calm his soul.  Deep conversations took place, "I Love Yous" were said, and many got to have one last conversation with a man they adored.  The timing of those trips and the fact that he was there was a miracle.

There were so many other miracles all along the way.  The fact that we had those nearly four years together, the night we spent in the temple as Jace received his endowments, or how Jace and I arrived in SLC only minutes apart as we both rushed home to say our goodbyes.  All of these things were miracles, a glimpse of God's good grace in the midst of tragedy.  And there were so many, many more: 6 month old Stella's angelic behavior, Kyrsten's inspiration to begin gathering photos and words from family members that depicted their love and admiration for him.  I can not deny the miracles that occurred.  We may not have been granted the one miracle our hearts so desired, but there was no shortage of blessings along the way.

This year I spent July 25th with my mom and Taigen at the cabin in Bear Lake.  We were there with so many people who love and miss my dad, and we were in a place that he loved just as much.  I spent some of the days leading up to "the day" re-reading some of those letters of gratitude from my grandparents, aunts, and cousins.  Over and over again I read about the goodness they saw in my dad.  They were so proud of him and his accomplishments.  They felt so lucky to have been touched by his life.  Every single letter spoke of his positive outlook; of his courage in the face of adversity.  He did not let the weight of his illness or the fear of the unknown determine his attitude.  He chose to be happy.  He decided to see the good in life, even when it was hard.  Those letters were such a reminder to me to focus on the good.  Yes, it will always be hard not having him here.  Some things just won't ever get easier.  But there is too much good that comes from his life and from the world around me to focus on the negative.

Since the day he died our family has felt his presence through the beauty of rainbows.  There isn't one important event that has taken place that hasn't been accompanied by some rainbow, somewhere.  After our morning at the cabin the girls and I packed our bags and made the 9 hour journey back to Montana.  It wasn't necessarily how I wanted to spend an already depressing day, but I didn't have much of a choice.  As I made my way closer to Billings I could see storm clouds approaching.  Ryan had called to warn me that I may need to pull over, but I never saw but a few drops of rain.  I did however find a beautiful rainbow that followed me along the highway for almost an hour.  I couldn't help but cry as I realized he was with me.  He is really always with me.  He is in so much of the person that I am.  That rainbow was a tender mercy.  Rainbows will forever be a reminder that beauty and goodness will always follow the storm.