Unique Month

We often approach times of the year with a pretty good idea of how they are going to go. Christmas is one of those seasons for me. I know that we will be busy with music performances for the first three weeks, we will hand out neighbor gifts, we will not read a Christmas story every night but we will some nights, and by a couple of days before the anxiety of the kids will be so thick you can cut it with a knife. We will have a fun Christmas Eve and day and then we will really enjoy the relaxation and fun that the week after Christmas brings. Steve and I do a lot of planning and goal setting and preparing so that we can enter the new year with a fresh perspective and energy to try new things and grow in new areas.

This year was very different. On December 21st my dad's wife called to say that he was in the hospital and was incoherent. I was going to go the next day but he seemed better and it was snowing heavily here, and we had already planned to go visit after Christmas. Then, on Wednesday morning she called to say that he'd had a seizure and had stopped breathing and she didn't know if he was going to make it. I rushed up to Idaho Falls and found that they were able to stabilize him and that we would know more when he woke up in the next day or two. I came home that night to find that Steve's grandma had passed away so we were still preparing for a funeral.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day passed pleasantly with the exception that the news from Idaho Falls was unchanging. He just wasn't waking up and they didn't know why. They ran test after test and nothing was clear, but it was clear that not waking up was not a good thing.

Ryan and Jana and their family came to stay with us for Grandma's funeral and we had great fun with them. We went sledding, had a pizza party, went to the Training Table, and played, played, played, played.

We decided to go back to Idaho on New Year's Day. He was in the ICU so none of the kids could come in so they went to the mall and swam at the hotel and had no idea what was really going on. We came to find out that in addition to Hodgkin's Disease, his bone cancer hadn't really gone into remission but had actually been dissolving his bones to the point that he had large holes in his back, spine, and pelvis and that one of the vertebrae in his back was actually fractured from it. He had been on dialysis for nine years and was now in complete renal failure. There was also some sort of lesion on his brain that was causing pressure and they had no idea what it was from. The nurses would come in and say that he was a very, very, very sick man. When you get three very's from a nurse, you know it is bad. While I was there, the doctor came and told us that they didn't think he would ever wake up, and if he did he would be facing horrible chemotherapy and would probably really never go home again. It was a heart-wrenching decision time. I knew though, that my dad wouldn't want to be that way. He never wanted to be dependent and he would be mortified to have to live like that. Before I left I had a great experience of being able to tell him goodbye and I really felt like his spirit was there and that he heard. It was a great gift from a loving Heavenly Father and I will be eternally grateful for it.

Marie waited the weekend, and then on Monday morning she decided to take him off of the respirator, stop dialysis, and remove the feeding tubes. He stayed around until Friday evening and then he just stopped breathing. There was no pain, or gasping, or struggle. It was just a release. Marie and her kids were there and they said that it was a very peaceful couple of hours after he left when they felt like he was there and was at peace with what had happened.

We went back to Idaho on Monday for the funeral and it was a lovely experience. I had the chance to stand in the viewing line and talk to people. I only knew two people who came through so it was like I got to have this intimate glimpse into a life that I never knew my dad had. It was really therapeutic. My kids sang at the funeral (scary for all of us) and I gave the children's portion of his life sketch. It was so much harder than I thought it would be. There were things that I really felt needed to be shared, memories that I wanted my own kids to know, yet I wanted it to be appropriate and to honor him. I don't know if you ever know if you did a good job at something like that.

I was so surprised at how this has affected me. I have turned into a hermit, really not wanting to engage in a lot of small talk, or to seek out other people. I was exhausted for days. I was mentally, spiritually and emotionally drained. I have been super sensitive of other people's feelings. It was so much harder than I anticipated. No matter what your relationship, losing a parent is not easy. It shakes foundations and feels like it just looms in front of you at all times.

Towards the end of last week I finally started pulling out of it. I feel like if I have a testimony of the Resurrection I cannot dwell on this. I can be sad, and I can miss him, but I have to move past it and it is okay to feel joy amid my sadness. I feel like I will probably start my new year in February when I get the motivation to really move on my goals, but really, the Lord doesn't care when I start, as long as I am moving. Death stirs up all sorts of emotions, but it is also kind of cleansing to rely on the gift of the Holy Ghost and to believe on what I say I believe in. It is good to move on.